The Rune Reader
by Bluedragon312
Summary: Harry Potter is in the Forest of Dean, faced with choices. Without his friends, he embarks on a quest. He faces choices, that may change who he is. What he chooses, will forever change the Wizarding World. Remnants rally under Gawain Robbards' standard, to strike once more at Voldemort. Families are torn asunder daily. Who will be victorious in this time of total war?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

Prelude: A Dark Time has come

"Albus, you cannot be serious! You would have the Wizarding world put all its eggs in one basket and then not provide a suitable contingency. You are even more insane than I believed before your death."

To average man, it would appear as though the man is sitting behind the large ornate desk in the headmaster's office was merely talking to himself, but in reality, he was speaking with the portrait of his predecessor, Albus Dumbledore.

Sitting at the large desk, was a man with a sallow face full of wrinkles; with long, greasy hair that was almost shoulder length and skin that looked as though it had not seen the light of day for several nights. He wore the jet; black robes that billowed behind him when he walked in, many would swear that he had modified the robes to do that with a spell. This man was Severus Snape, former Potions Master, and current headmaster of Hogwarts.

His attention focused entirely upon a single portrait; this portrait was lined with gold and featured a man with a stunningly long, silvery white beard. He looked as though he were several hundred years old. This was Albus Dumbledore, former headmaster of Hogwarts.

"I know Severus, but I could not have anticipated Harry and his friends splintering like an ill-made rocking chair. It appears as though I will have to enact another plan, another idea more ambitious than any other I have ever attempted. It will involve risks, and will involve assumptions based upon how I believe Harry is acting now, now that his friends have left," said the old man in the portrait.

" Albus you cannot believe that Potter can adequately accept the role we have chosen for him. After all we are simply keeping him alive so that he may die in the correct moment." The younger man said.

" Severus, that many no longer be necessary. I have spoken with other portraits and with Masters of spiritual arts. I have come to the conclusion that there may be a ritual we can perform that will rid young Harry of the Horcrux." The man excitedly replied.

Severus rubbed his head with a sigh, "Albus, if we had already discovered a way to keep Potter alive, then we would have used it by now. The Horcrux within him is fatal, unless the abundance of love you call his power, can anchor him to this world when the Horcrux is destroyed."

Albus looked disappointed at his former spy, "If that is all you can think of Severus, then perhaps my trust in you has been misguided. Trust in me, Severus, it will work. It **has** to work."

The desperation in the Headmaster's voice was startling, to say the least. Severus was not unaccustomed to it, in his later days; it was a common occurrence, yet still. He lifted his tired head to the portrait hanging just to the left, "What is your bright idea, then?"

"That's my boy, Severus. Now, I have an extra portrait. As you may recall I had you shrink it, and hide it in the '_Tales of Beedle the Bard'_ that I gave to young Miss Granger." Snape nodded his head, he remembered doing this, and how absurd he thought the action was.

"I know that you did not believe it to be a good course of action, but it has allowed me to stay up to date with Harry's predicament. It is perilous, to say the least, and may compromise the future that we both wish to see."

"Yet neither of us will see," Snape interrupted.

"Don't be so negative, Severus. Of course we will see it! That is why we must fight so hard for it!"

"No one has fought as hard or risked nearly as much as I have, Albus. In my line of work, failure begets a fate far worse than death, if you do not remember." Snape said in a deadly whisper. Times like this really irked the ex-Potions Master.

"Regardless, Harry is the only hope we have. Already, fringe members of the Order are forsaking the war, content to hide in the background until a new leader appears. We need to rally, Severus! Harry can do that."

Snape breathed into his hand, "Get on with it, Albus. It's more taxing than you believe, keeping the Carrows from killing everyone while holding up my cover."

"Alright, alright. We send him on a quest for power."

This got Snape's attention, he jerked up from his slumped position, "What!? You are joking. Sending Potter on the quest for power, into the forbidden places within the Forest of Dean while the rest of us fight for our lives is insane!"

"He's already in the Forest of Dean, Severus. The map to the first Place of Power is in Beedle's book. " Albus said with a smile.

Severus glared at the portrait, as he began to comprehend that Albus did wish to send Potter on the quest for power. It baffled him. Here, he, Severus Snape, had conspired with Dumbledore to aid Potter, despite his misgivings, and now the ex-Headmaster was throwing their previous plan out the window.

"The war can and will be won, Severus. With the abilities given to him by the quest, Harry will prevail. The Runes will guide him now. After he succeeds…"

"Don't you mean, 'If' he succeeds?" Snape cut in.

"Oh no, Severus, " Dumbledore said, shaking his head in the portrait, "I have no doubt Harry will succeed. After all, the greatest wizards of all times have completed the trials, why should he not?"

Snape scowled, "Maybe because he isn't one of the greatest wizards of all time?"

"Now, now, this is not time to be negative, Severus."

Snape scoffed, "I'm being realistic. Potter is mediocre, average at best. Even he knows it, just look at his demeanor in class. He was a terrible student who had to scrape by with a bare minimum grades necessary to enter his chosen field. There was no confidence, despite my own comments to the otherwise, and there was no drive to improve even in the face of imminent death. He spent his entire sixth year flirting with girls, and goofing off with Weasley. Until your death, the worst part of the year for him was when I gave him detention for almost killing Malfoy!"

"Perhaps if you had not been so hard on him, Severus, then you would have realized he was a perfectly capable student. It was your own foolhardy grudge, and misjudgment of his personality, that led to the rift between the two of you."

Snape slammed his fist on the desk, causing a silver artifact to topple over, "Stop making it sound like it is my entire fault, Albus. It is not, and I refuse to take the piss for whatever the boy has told you about my treatment of him."

"Calm down Severus, it is not that bad. I am merely saying that you to perhaps could find the next part of this task easier if you had not been so judgmental of Harry."

Snake merely sighed, and picked up the silver artifact. Albus said, "After I have confirmed that Harry has completed the quest for power, you will rendezvous with him inside of the Forest of Dean. Once you are there, the two of you who perform a ritual, which will forcefully extricate Tom's soul from his Horcruxes. This will, I hope, rid Harry of the malignant cancer that is the partial Horcrux in his forehead, while saving him the pain of actually dying. Then, the two of you can lead the Forces of the Light into victory."

Severus was flabbergasted, "Are you insane? That plan is even more far-fetched than the one you told me of before you died. Anyway, Tom has me forcefully in place at the school, and there is no way that I will be able to leave without informing him. In addition, I seriously doubt Minerva will be able to control the Carrows, and the other Slytherins, while I'm gone."

If Severus had any more surprise with in him, it was used by the headmaster next remark. "That is a minor problem."

Severus was almost foaming at the mouth now, "A minor problem? A minor problem! The Dark Lord appointed me personally. Unless I am going to see him, he would kill me for dereliction."

"He would kill you anyway if he knew what we're planning."

_Damn that man, _Severus thought, but he knew the ex-headmaster was correct. If the Dark Lord knew where his loyalties truly lay, then he would already be dead.

The current Headmaster called the conversation to an end, and stalked off to bed. Damn, he needed it too; his predecessor was even more annoying in death than in life.

* * *

(In the Forest of Dean)

* * *

Harry James Potter, the Boy Who Lived, sometimes the Chosen One, and perceived Savior of the Wizarding World, sat alone in a tent . Luckily, it was very heavily warded, and nearly impossible to find, unless you knew where it was already.

He had not moved since he laid down. He was still in shock. Shock from the earlier events with his best friends, which resulted in both leaving him for greener pastures.

Harry had begun to notice a rift in the "Golden Trio" as most called them, when Ron and Hermione had decided to promote their relationship from "Friends" to "Romantic". Ever since Dumbledore's funeral, he felt somewhat distant from both. As they grew closer with each other, they grew further from him. He truly was the third wheel in the Trio now.

Tensions had finally exploded when Ron began complaining about rations and house conditions. At first, Hermione had been in Harry's corner, but she gravitated towards Ron as the argument escalated. Wands were drawn, and it was only Hermione's shield that separated him from Ron. In that crucial moment, Ron threw his hands up, and announced his intentions to leave.

Ron had thrown the Locket of Slytherin at Harry, and left. At first it seemed like Hermione, despite her own tears and anguish, would stick it out with Harry. For that, he was eternally grateful. Until he woke up from a nightmare and realized that, she had left as well.

Luckily, neither had taken any of the precious little food or any of the materials Dumbledore had left to them, except for Ron with the Deluminator. Harry busied himself as best he could with the _Tales of Beedle the Bard_ and it was during his cursory look, that he noticed an indent on the back cover. He dug his fingernail into and popped it open. The interior of the book cover opened up, and inside, a portrait of the grinning Albus Dumbledore looked up at him.

"Hello Harry, it's nice to see you again."

His wand was immediately in his hand, "Prove to me! Prove you are not a..." He struggled not to call it a Horcrux, "thing of Tom's!"

The portrait chuckled, "I am certainly not one of Tom's Horcruxes, though I imagine that Locket you are wearing is. I assume that it was the Horcrux we were pursuing in my penultimate moments?"

Harry looked down, "Yes it is, Professor. Unfortunately, you weakened yourself for nothing. Regulus Black betrayed Tom, and took this from the cave many years ago."

"I remember something being rather, plain about that amulet. I was dying anyway, Harry, the curse in my hand would have killed me not long after that battle. I had a few days at most." The Headmaster said his eyes downcast.

Harry sat back, spellbound for a moment. How in the hell did Dumbledore get a portrait inside of his book? For that matter, that means that he also knew about…

"Yes, Harry. I heard the commotion earlier. It appears that the bonds of faith were not as strong as I had anticipated they would be."

"Nor I, Professor, I don't know what I will do now." Harry said with his hands clenched.

"I have a plan, Harry. It is far-fetched, as Severus insists, but it is doable. You are to begin a quest for power. There are four places of power, which are secluded away inside of the Forest of Dean. The map to the first lies hidden in this book, behind this portrait. Go there, defeat the Guardian of Purity, and accept its gift. Then, you will truly be on your way to defeating Tom."

Harry's eyes widened. He knew the quest for the horcruxes would be difficult, but this was a new task. "What about the Horcruxes?"

"Severus will meet up with you after you have completed the journey for power. The two of you will perform a ritual which will handle everything for us." Dumbledore said with a smile.

Harry was puzzled. Dumbledore had spent the greater part of the last year teaching him "important" facts about Riddle's past, which pointed to the inevitable conclusion that the once promising young man had succumbed to the deeps and darkest of arts. It did not sit well with Harry that the Headmaster had decided to forsake the quest, which cost him his life, in favor of some ritual. It seemed, Voldemort like.

He looked at his surroundings. Looking at the abandoned bags, and the Locket of Slytherin lying next to him, Harry decided he had nothing to lose. If it worked, then he would triumph. If it did not work, the worst cost was his life. Since when had his life ever been truly worth something anyway?

"Alright, I'll go. I guess this," he held up the folded piece of paper fetched from behind Dumbledore's portrait, "is the map?"

The ex-Headmaster nodded. Harry smirked, "Well, I had better start packing up. It looks like the map wants me to head to the far northern parts of the forest. There, it has a place marked 'Temple of Purity'."

"Know that I will not be able to help you in this quest, Harry. I am bound by oath, as anyone else who has completed it, to withhold information on the obstacles, which the pilgrims will face. But, perhaps you will learn something in those woods. The legends say the first magical societies originated in this very forest." Then, Dumbledore left the portrait.

_That's worrisome, _he thought as he tucked the portrait back into its slot, _Well, it cannot be any worse than Voldemort._

He did not know how wrong he could be. Then again, he didn't know how bad Voldemort could be either.

* * *

A/N: Well, that ends the first chapter of this rewrite/edit/entirely version, of Rune Reader. Leave whatever feedback you wish. Also, I aim to keep these chapters at a low enough word count so that I don't burn out like I have in other stories, but there will not be a chapter with less than 2k words.

A/N2: I'm also undecided at this point, whether this story will remain Harry/Daphne/Tracy, or Harry/Daphne, with Tracy as a side character. However, that's a ways a way, and we won't be worried about that for a little while.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1 A Paradise Lost

Maybe he shouldn't have left at night, but now was not the time for regrets. Harry Potter trudged through the unwritten paths of the magical parts of the Forest of Dean. Indeed, like his tent, the Forest was magically expanded, much larger than it appeared on a map.

As he passed into the forgotten parts of the forest, he noticed small ruins. As Dumbledore's Portrait hinted, there were hints of a lost civilization, but only small rocks. _They must be clue stones of some sort. To those who can see them, they are calling. They are calling for their lost children to return._ Harry found himself thinking.

The stones were remarkably well preserved, no doubt preserved by magic. He could feel the magic rolling off them, pervading the air, as if every breath was not merely oxygen, but a cocktail of oxygen and magic. He felt more powerful as he continued onward, and the magic became more concentrated.

He jumped over a large branch, and found himself staring at the remains of a town. Small stone houses, perfectly preserved by magic.

Every house had indecipherable runes engraved on their stones. They glimmered in the darkness, like a small fireworks show. The magic in the air shimmered, giving it a hazy look, and small, glowing particles floated around him.

He breathed a wow as he observed the light show. How Hermione would have killed to see this! Hell, how Luna would have killed to see this! It was right up his somewhat insane, yet incredibly succinct, friend's tastes.

He walked towards the largest house. He peeked inside, though he didn't know what he expected, it was clear the village had been abandoned for years beyond memory. Inside, though, he saw a small, but thick, book with a bony utensil next to it. Upon further examination, the duo appeared to be an ancient journal and a pen of some sort.

There was no title on the brown skin of the book. The pen was made of a bone of some sort, of which, he did not know. He opened the book. Inside, written in a rusty color that he vaguely recognized, were hundreds, possibly thousands, of words. However, they were written in an unknown language. Suddenly, new words appeared. Words he could read.

**"In life, I was weak. In death, I paid the debts that I owed in life. Release me."**

Harry almost dropped the book. Fear gripped his heart, burned in his stomach, and threatened to overtake his mind. Still he held on.

**"Young Reader, the Power beckons. Bring forth the Ancients!"**

There was an impulse. His hand was moving, but he wasn't doing it, and he couldn't stop it. It gripped the pen. On impulse, he scratched, "I release you!"

In that moment, he realized what the words were written in: Blood. The color of dried blood, and like a rusty nail, fear drove further into his heart as the runes within the house exploded into crimson red.

Clutching the book and pen, he dashed out of the house, and into the proverbial frying pan. Outside, Magic was raging. Red clouds gathered within the ancient village. Inside of them, he could see pinpricks of a brighter red.

Then the spells came. Hundreds of them, flying through the air, hurtling at him with a frightening speed he could not dodge. His mind did not process how he survived; only that he did, and that his legs were moving faster than they ever had before. The earth exploded around him, fire lashed at his ankles, and the very vines of the trees came to life, rising up to strangle him.

Then it stopped. He slammed into an invisible barrier of some kind. He noticed that it was made of the same particles he had seen earlier. He banged on the barrier, but it wouldn't budge. The torrent of energy overtook him, and all went red.

**"So your name is Potter?"**

_He was floating in a sea of red, _"Huh?" _he questioned. He looked around, and tried to breath. He couldn't. Clouds roiled around him, like a tumultuous sea in the midst of a raging hurricane. Crimson glinted within those clouds, beckoning, begging for release._

_ "_What's going on?" _he shouted into the mists. A deep, rumbling laugh, the one commonly associated with some comic book villain, answered him._

**"You are treading in ancient lands, with ancient promises, and ancient grudges. The time has come for payment."**

_The answering voice was a cacophony of voices, echoing, thrumming, and drumming, into his head. A dread symphony of revenge for some curse he had never uttered._

**"Once upon a time, the Potters were not the Light's Champions; they were the darkest of the dark. This is repayment. Embrace hate, and embrace what we give unto you, as payment for sins long past, and revenge for the senseless death wrought in your name!"**

_The clouds stopped swirling, yet that did not comfort him. It only made him panic more. In that instant, the blood colored mist rushed into him, entering from his scar. His eyes flashed open, despite of the shock, and he realized. He realized the secret history of his bloodline, of his very name, and its history dating back all the way to the very creation of magic. The history of Potter, as it was written in the blood of thousands, written in the darkness under the veil of light._

He woke with a start. His heart raced as he frantically glanced around him. He was laying in the middle of the stone town. Was what just happened real? He found his hand clutching something, and in horror, he realized it was the book. He opened the book again, and found that he could read the runes. On the front page, he saw the words:

"_**Welcome, Rune Reader."**_

"Ah, Harry, it seems you have found an ancient relic there."

Harry nearly jumped out his skin, as Albus Dumbledore's voice sounded from the open Tales of Beedle the Bard sitting across from the ancient book. "It is really going to take a little to get used to that isn't it?"

Dumbledore laughed at his discomfort, "Severus still is jumpy about it. I am here to warn you about Tom putting a Taboo on his name. A Taboo works like the Trace did, except only for the tabooed words, in this case, Tom's chosen name. This way, he believes he can find the last vestiges of resistance, by preying on our teachings that his name should not be feared."

Harry rolled his eyes. Typical Voldemort there, making the last six years of trying to get people to get over their fear of his very name a waste of time.

"Anyway, I want you to practice a spell for me. It is a weak counter spell that is generally overlooked at Hogwarts, but given the right situation, it can counter any spell short of the Avada Kedavra. It is called the Spell Piercer, and the incantation is_ Perforabit incantatores_."

Harry was taken aback, "That's a long incantation for a weak spell, isn't it?"

Dumbledore nodded in his portrait, "It is generally meant to be cast silently. The Spell Piercer works by severing the magical source of a spell as it is cast. Nearly no modern wizards hold magical power out of their spells, preferring maximum effect. Thus, the Spell Piercer is obscenely powerful against hotheads like your general Death Eater. It made Gawain Robbards famous among the Auror community, and even Alastor took to using it."

"Robbards, he was the new Head of the DMLE after Scrimgeour became Minister, right?" Harry asked, resting his head on his hand.

"Indeed. Until recently, we did not know if he survived or not, but Severus heard from Shacklebolt that Robbards is trying to start up his own resistance in Wales. Kingsley is joining up with him, since they're old buddies, but I have no idea how many other Order members might join."

Harry scowled, "I would like to think he was still alive, if he's trying to organize a resistance movement. Then again, Tom may have already found him and cut the loose end."

"That is what I worry of. Kingsley is a strong man, and I do not want him walking into a trap. He is an ideal candidate for Minister after the war, providing he survives of course." Dumbledore mused, "Back on topic, I will also teach you of the Spell Piercer's stronger cousin later, since most will eventually catch on to what you are trying to do, assuming they have any real skill."

"The second spell," Dumbledore continued, "I want to teach is called the Ice Spear. There are many different incantations, depending on translation, for this spell, but the most common is _Hasta Glacialus._ If you know enough Latin, then you can make spear spells for any element, such as _Hasta Lucis_, for the Light Spear. These are called derivative spells, as they are all derivatives of the same spell. They are not particularly advanced, but have a certain utility that adds to their usefulness."

With that, Dumbledore left his portrait, to return to his Headmaster's portrait at Hogwarts. Harry pulled out his wand, and began practicing the incantations. While there was no way to know if the Spell Piercer was working, since it was a counter, he **did **notice that the Ice Spear wasn't working.

His wand felt dead in his hands. Normally, he felt a small amount of warmth when grabbing it, a small amount of comfort. Now, it emanated no such feeling, if anything, it was cold and hard, condemning.

Confused, he sat his holly wand down, and grabbed the bone pen. Rage began cursing through his body. Not just any rage; a bloodthirsty, killer's rage. He immediately dropped it, and felt the rage subside.

Without any other hints, he cracked the ancient book open, and began to read.

* * *

(Several Hours Later)

_The book is fascinating,_ he thought, _it is as though it were written specifically for me. _

It did not solve his problem though; he was lost and had no idea where to go. The little detour with the stone village, much as he wanted to forget it, had completely thrown off what little sense of direction he had. A simple Point-Me-Charm proved fruitless, as his wand no longer responded to him

There was another problem. Ever since the earlier incident, his wand felt dead in his hands; as if it was an ordinary stick. He was loath to leave it somewhere, but it was also of no use to him. It had been so faithful through the years, and he felt as though he had somehow betrayed it.

Still trying to discover what the ancient spirits of the village had gifted him, he looked at the curved bone he originally thought was just a pen for writing. As the book detailed, it was actually a Sphinx's bone wand. Made from, what else, but the bone of a sphinx, generally the upper spine, wands like this were no longer made. It was a relic from times long past when wizards like Merlin were not just legends; they walked the earth.

The bone wand hummed with energy when he touched it, something he refrained from doing often. It was accompanied by a desire, an unholy desire to slaughter. He gripped the wand with a cloth over the handle, which muffled the yearnings somewhat. He muttered _Lumos,_ and the light burst forth, revealing the way. A Point-Me later, and he was once again on his way toward the Temple of Purity.

Carrying the tent in a rolled up sack, and huffing from the walk, he noticed the sun was beginning to rise, which worried him. Though he was in an ancient section of the forest, protected by ancient wards, he still worried that Death Eaters would find him somehow.

He didn't get far, before he felt weariness catching up with him. He began setting up the tent, and he just collapsed.

* * *

(With Snape)

Elsewhere in the Wizarding World, Severus Snape was dealing, again, with the pains of being the only Headmaster in the history of Hogwarts to willingly allow a Dark Lord to walk its halls. In fact, it was an irony he would laugh about, were he not in the presence of said Dark Lord, and laughing around Voldemort was a crime punishable by death.

"I like what you've done with the place," Voldemort muttered in reference to the Great Hall being decked out entirely in silver and green, Slytherin's colors.

"It does me well, to please you, My Lord," Snape answered back, ignoring the looks of fear from his students as the Dark Lord walked into the Great Hall.

Draco Malfoy stood up, "A toast, to the Dark Lord!"

There was a roar of cheers, and Voldemort smiled. The fear was evident among those who did not openly support the Dark Lord. Voldemort said, "Thank you, Draco. As you all know, I have triumphed! No longer, does our wonderful Wizarding World stand under the impetus of the Muggle, and those who come of its soiling seed. Now, we stand upon the precipice of a new world, a world which I, Lord Voldemort, will guide us to our ultimate destiny!"

The cheers were even louder than before. Internally, Snape thought it a good idea that he had hidden Minerva and the other Teachers who were not Death Eaters. No doubt, the Justicar of Gryffindor would have done something extremely rash in that moment.

It was several hours before Voldemort left, as he reveled in his triumph. However, he would return the next day for the victory celebrations to commence. With that in mind, Voldemort had expressed concern that his Death Eaters still could not find Potter or his cronies.

Snape had witnessed the grisly fate of the last Eater to report failure in that department. At least, the Dark Lord was content with letting Snape do his job as Headmaster with little interference, with today as an aberration.

The war was over, for all intents and purposes. The Order was in fragments; most of the fringe members were willing to dig in and hope it would all pass. Only the core members, such as himself, Lupin, and the Weasleys, retained even a semblance of activity. He heard from Tonks that Shacklebolt had teamed up with Gawain Robbards, who was hiding in Wales, to form their own resistance group.

The so-called Neutral families, which encompassed most of the Wizard population, hastily swore fealty to Voldemort. They knew that the Dark Lord did not tolerate those with wavering loyalties, as the Greengrass family found out. Most of the family were dead, killed after the youngest daughter, Astoria, sold their hiding place out to Voldemort. Snape now looked after the eldest daughter, Daphne, and lent her his home at Spinner's End.

In the end, these little acts of defiance were all that Snape had left. Whether it was looking after a blood traitor, or listening to the rambling portrait of Albus Dumbledore, there were few who felt as played out as Severus Snape. Until Potter resurfaced, there was nothing to be done.

Gods he hated that. _Until Potter resurfaced_, he thought angrily, replaying his recent thought. Playing Voldemort's servant until a boy he had little respect for came to save the day. He had always chastised Albus for putting all of his eggs in one basket, and the entire Wizarding Britain was reaping what Albus sowed. There was no contingency, there were no reinforcements coming. Magical Britain had been dead to the ICW for years, and Voldemort's takeover would be ignored until it was too late.

In other words, the situation was hopeless. But, there was still hope, and that hope was in the form of an arrogant brat who was the spitting image of his father. Except for his eyes, those were Lily's and they had always pained Snape, cutting into his very soul with their accusatory stare.

* * *

(With Harry)

As Snape was contemplating how hopeless life under Voldemort would be, Harry was making his approach to the very first of the places of power. As he approached, he read the inscription on the overhanging arch: "_Enter and prove thy purity and take thy place among the spirits."_

Like the stone village, small particles of light floated innocently through the air. There was a thin fog enveloping the area, obscuring the entrance to the small shrine. Ignoring his deep sense of foreboding, Harry sat his luggage down, and moved towards the temple.

Small veins of amber glinted up from the rocks. Vines draped the entrance. Fallen leaves crunched as he walked under the archway. The world seemed to shimmer, a familiar shimmer, he thought, and he walked into the Temple of Purity.

* * *

A/N: Alright, I'm aware of the errors in the first chapter, which I assume FF did when I uploaded it, because the file on my computer did not have that same error. It will be fixed shortly.

The Temples (analogous to the Places of Power in the original) and their guardians will represent the spirits as seen in the original story. On that note, these Temples are intensely magical places, and many of them use a magical Virtual reality within.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2: The Temple of Purity

The world reoriented itself, and Harry found himself in a vibrant, if austere, atrium. Everything was a stark white, like Hedwig's feathers, or pure snow. Various mechanisms vibrated and rotated around him, indicating a state of technology that even the most advanced muggles had not reached.

Upon the wall, an inscription read:

"_**Enter into the vestments of purity, and embrace the innocence that all men possess, and all men extinguish**__."_

_Cryptic,_ Harry thought, _But not difficult. It refers to the innocence of children._

It had been many years since he had been a child, even when he was a young lad. He never possessed the innocence most did. He hoped that the trials of the temple would not test his innocence.

Gripping the Bone Wand in his hand, and ignoring the blood swirling in his head, Harry marched onward. He twisted the knob to the nearest door, and walked into the room.

His first impression was that it looked like the Department of Mysteries, except it was a blinding white, and not a dark blue. Upon further inspection, it was a remake of the DOM, except it seemed to be linear. He could see the Veil of Death in the distance.

The hair on the back of his neck stood, and he hastily ducked. A green flash soared over his head, and slammed into the wall behind him. He dusted the flecks of rock off his face, and turned away from the hole.

_Well, that was a Killing Curse, and it was certainly real. This is no simulation._ He mused, dodging to the side to avoid a yellow curse. He flicked his wand and brought up a shield to block a Stunner. The large bookcases, which carried the prophecies, were immediately in front of him. Taking a swift survey of the area indicated that he would have to run the gauntlet.

_I don't know why I didn't notice this before, but these bookcases are a death trap. They're too heavy to knock over without a spell, and I don't want to give away my position. It seems that this place is simulating my Death Eater opponents as well,_ he thought, watching a silver masked mass dodge into one of the lanes.

"_Kill them all!"_

Harry jumped away from the lane he had chosen, barely dodging a stream of curses. He hurled himself into another, and ran. He slowed his pace, and began advancing with a steady shield up to block incoming spells. A Killing Curse sped at him; he summoned one of the glass orbs to intercept it.

"Avis! Stupefy! Stupefy!" A swarm of birds flew out his wand, clouding the slower moving stunning curses. The chain was effective. Two Death Eaters dropped, not having time to protect after dispelling the swarm.

Harry stormed out of the bookcases, wand ablaze. He quickly made his way to an overturned table in the second room, a replica of the Brain Room. "Bombarda!"

Three Death Eaters exploded, showering their compatriots in gore and dust. A large chunk of the floor crashed to the ground, thrown up from the explosive spell.

Harry fought his way out of the Brain Room, and into a replica of the swirling room of doors. A large flaming X, the spell Hermione had performed to mark the doors, floated on every door except the one he had just came out.

In the middle of the room, floated the words:

"**Make your choices in these rooms wisely. In each, there will be a conflict. You must make the correct decision. Choose wrong, and the road forward will grow ever harder."**

He noticed that one of the doors, the one he remembered that Dumbledore said was always locked, had a different sigil floating on it. It was not an X; rather, it was a small scroll. Harry figured it to be a seal of purity. No doubt, it would be unlocked after he faced the trials in the other rooms.

Looking around, he wondered how he would enter the rooms; as they were all marked with the flaming X, save the one exception. He reached into his robes, and pulled out the book. Inside, it simply said, "_Reader of the lines that no one reads, call upon the power of the blood, and break the seal."_

He pondered the meaning of the words. He knew it wanted him to use his blood open the doors, but how would he? He decided to prick his finger with Bone Wand. The small puncture wound bled much more than he thought it would. With the blood running down his palm, he smeared it on one of the doors. The X shattered, and there was a small click as the door unlocked. He twisted the knob, and entered the room beyond.

The world shimmered again, and he found himself in the Chamber of Secrets of Hogwarts, or a very convincing replica thereof. The monkey-esque face of Salazar Slytherin glared down at him, as he walked through the narrow corridor, flanked by serpent's heads. Glimmering eyes twinkled in the dark.

He could see a body lying on the ground on the small platform ahead of him, the site of his final battle with the Basilisk. Recognizing the red hair from the far distance, it must be a simulated Ginny Weasley.

_Now I know, _he thought,_ I am facing the Chamber again. Second year repeats itself, but how is this a choice I must re-make? I thought my actions at the Chamber were clean cut. Unless it means something else, of course._

Harry saw people running. Wait, people? He was the only person who faced the Basilisk, faced Tom Marvolo Riddle, and did it for a girl he hardly knew. But, he recognized these people. It was Ron and Hermione.

He heard them shouting at the manifestation of Riddle, "What have you done to Ginny?"

Riddle's answer came, "Nothing, boy, but survive. She will not live long, Mr. Weasley."

Then, Riddle asked them, "Where's Potter? I know you could not have entered this place without him, as shocking as it is that he is a Parselmouth."

Harry saw their hesitation, and figured that something bad must have happened. He also wondered what Hermione was doing here; she had been petrified. Her being petrified had been the catalyst for him and Ron to unravel the mystery. How had the events of this simulation been altered compared to reality?

"Harry is indisposed!" Hermione shouted at Riddle. Based on the glare Riddle was sending Hermione, he didn't appreciate the obvious lie.

"It isn't like Potter to sit by while his mudblood friend does the work, is it? I am disappointed in him. I bet he's petrified, isn't he? At the very entrance."

_There's the answer. The Basilisk must have been out and I must have run into it by accident after opening the door. _Harry realized. As Riddle turned to the statue of Salazar, the scene stopped. Flaming letters appeared.

"**Make your choice, who will you aid? Know, that if you aid one, then the other must die. Make the choice of your heart, and prove your purity! See the truth that only a pure heart can see!"**

The scene remained stopped. He figured the room was waiting for him to make a choice. In his mind, he could not see how he could not help Ron and Hermione, but he also thought that the room meant he had to choose between one of them. Recognizing the gravity of the room's words, he considered his choices hard.

_"See the truth that only a pure heart can see" What the hell does that mean? Use some sort of primal instinct to discern the truth? _Harry mused as he paced back and forth in the room. It was then that he noticed a small hourglass. The sand was nearly filtered out, and in that moment, he realized he was on the clock.

Desperation began to fill his heart. No doubt, if he failed to make a choice, then, all of the options would turn against him. He wondered if he could take all three. A twelve year old Ron and Hermione would likely not be a challenge, but even at the semi-tender age of seventeen, Tom Marvolo Riddle had delved into some of the darkest of all magic. Riddle would be a challenge on his own, and that did not include the basilisk about to slither out of Slytherin's face.

He opened his eyes, not realizing they were closed. He saw faint glows around the three figures. Fittingly, there was a dark glow around Riddle, but there was also a dark glow around Hermione. Only Ron shimmered gold, and that made Harry think harder. Was there a real danger of possession here? Riddle was still somewhat a spirit manifested from the diary.

Harry nodded, and made his choice. He would help Ron. The Room responded.

"**Good choice. Now, follow through!"**

Time restarted, and the Basilisk came forth. Harry caught a full shot of its bulbous, yellow eyes, but it didn't affect him. It seemed larger than before, but he was undaunted. _He _knew that Riddle was the enemy here. Defeating Riddle would shutdown the Basilisk. He let Ron run decoy for the basilisk, as Harry knew; even a seventeen year old Ron Weasley couldn't match up to Tom Riddle, much less a twelve year old.

Slinking to the side, he watched as Ron ran into the side passages, just as he had when he faced the giant snake. He drew the Bone Wand, ignored the blood rush, and set up a Muffliato and an area Silencing spell so that Riddle wouldn't be able to call for the snake.

"Good evening Riddle, fancy meeting you here?"

Riddle turned, and found Harry. His glare was almost as deadly as the real basilisk's, "Who are you?"

"Gee, Tom, don't you recognize the boy you tried to kill when he was only one year old? Maybe your memory is foggy, being locked in a diary can do that I think." Harry said with a smirk, to Riddle's frustration.

"There's no way you are Potter. You're too old to be the churl!"

"And you're too young to be Voldemort, but I don't think that makes a difference." Harry dodged Riddle's retaliatory hex, "Bloody hell, going right for the Dark Arts with that Heart Bursting Curse are we?"

Riddle snarled, "How do you know about that?"

"I've dodged plenty from your Death Eaters, Riddle. _Perforabit incantatores!_ Come on, Tom, is that all you have? If you're old enough to know how to make a Horcrux, you ought to be old enough to use the real Dark Arts!" Harry taunted the young Dark Lord. Riddle responded with an Avada Kedavra.

Harry ducked beneath the vivid green curse, letting it sail over his head. He didn't bother dodging the next spell, a sickly yellow curse, completely dissipating it with his new favorite, the Spell Pierce.

"How are you doing that? I've never heard of that incantation before!" Riddle shouted, losing his cool somewhat. Harry figured that was something both young and old Riddle had in common, they both lost their tempers incredibly fast.

"The Spell Piercer, an oft overlooked counter spell taught generally taught to homeschooled wizards who wish to become Aurors. They overlook it at Hogwarts because they feel it to be too weak to be of use. I think I've disproved that theory." Harry quoted from Dumbledore's portrait.

Riddle smirked, "Thank you for that _enlightening_ piece of information."

Harry definitely felt like he had just made a mistake, and lo! Riddle's next spell almost got through, as the young Dark Lord used Harry's own spell to counter his response. Harry harkened back to something Dumbledore had said, something about Riddle being one of the greatest students Hogwarts had ever housed, even greater than Hermione, so it figured that he would be able to learn a spell just from hearing its incantation.

Harry rectified his mistake, sneaking an ice spear under Riddle's guard, causing the wizard to back off, before he vanished the spear. It was somewhat disconcerting to see Riddle act like a massive icicle in the gut wasn't a problem, but it was a given, since he wasn't entirely alive yet. Harry needed to find the diary.

"_Robore!"_ Riddle's Bombarda dissipated to Harry's counterspell, frustrating the Dark Lord again. Harry took the moment to take the bearings of his situation.

The diary was laying slightly outside of his silencing spell, meaning he would have to break it to reach it. Assuming he was able to incapacitate Phantom Riddle long enough to reach it, he would have to destroy it again. But, if there was ever a time to use Fiendfyre, now was it!

Riddle had recovered from his spear to the gut, and was readying something new. Harry saw a crackle of black lightning, and lunged to the side. A massive bolt of energy seared his previous location, blackening the entire area. Riddle laughed, "That better, Potter?"

Harry chuckled, "I suppose so, Riddle. I was wondering when you would make it interesting!"

_In retrospect, never goad a burgeoning Dark Lord who probably learned more magic in one year at Hogwarts than you did in seven. _Harry thought as he frantically dodged a swarm of birds that were spitting fire at him. _A tad tame compared to his later years, but impressive and notably less Crucio based._

Harry dispelled the flaming birds with a Spell Pierce, and turned his attention to the conjured mass of Devil's Snare that was dragging its way toward him. An Incendio later, and he had an impressive bonfire. That is, until the flaming bush tried to grab him. He thought that fire completely shutdown Devil's Snare, but Riddle had given his a second life, so to speak.

Sliding to a halt, Harry decided to try something else. Ice also killed plants, but could he freeze a flaming plant? It was worth a shot, he decided, and began to inch closer to the hot bush.

He thought it odd that the plant hadn't burned to cinders yet, but he noticed Riddle to the side, muttering a spell of some sort. _He must be using a flame resistance spell of some sort._ Harry thought, as he readied his wand. A thick vine shot at him.

There was a loud snap, as the vine flash froze, despite being on fire. Weakened from the fire, the iced part fell to the ground. Harry smiled, he had an out now. _"Gelu iaculis!_

A stream of ice blew forth, covering the plant, stopping the fire, and eventually freezing it. Riddle was unfazed. He responded with his black lightning again, leaving Harry on the ground, having barely rolled away in time.

Harry jabbed his wand at Riddle, "_Hasta Glacialus!"_

A large spear of ice burst forth, hurtling at Riddle. A snarl of pain told Harry he hit his mark. The sharpened ice stuck out of Riddle's forearm. Harry smirked at Riddle, and beheaded the Horcrux/Temple generated apparition.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he walked over to the diary, and set it aflame. He began to walk away, before he noticed the room wasn't fading. Flaming letters appeared again.

"**You haven't completed the objective yet."**

"Great, I've got to kill the Basilisk again too, don't I?" He muttered angrily. He was tiring out, and needed to rest, as the Bone Wand's blood thirst was beginning to work into his mind now. He was too tired to completely block it out, and he'd never been any good at Occlumency anyway, so his minor defense was beginning to be overwhelmed.

_ Curse this damned temple, _He thought as he walked back toward the central area. Shortly thereafter, he heard the rumbling of the Basilisk. He turned to see Ron running from it, with Fawkes behind him, carrying the Sorting Hat.

He skidded to halt before Harry, "Who the bloody hell are you?"

"Language, Ron," Harry chided, "Get behind me, and hand me that damn hat. Fawkes, have you blinded the snake?"

The phoenix nodded, and Harry noted that one of its wings were crippled. It explained why Fawkes had been barely flying faster than Ron was running.

Harry took the Hat, jammed it on his head. Sure enough, he winced as the hilt of Gryffindor's Sword slammed into his head. It looked just as it always had, with the ruby the size of a small egg gleaming at him. He smiled.

"You can't be serious!" Ron shouted. Harry cursed as the Snake turned towards them.

"So much for stabbing it from behind," Harry muttered, readying the Sword. Basilisks were immensely resistant to most magic, so the sword was the only way. Wand in hand, he began moving to the left, keeping the head to his right.

_How to do this again? Well, I don't think Temple Fawkes is going to be able to heal me, so I had better figure out something other than stabbing it in the roof of its mouth._ He thought, rolling under the swinging tail of the snake.

_That's it!_ He smirked, as he grabbed hold of the snake's tail. It immediately thrashed, trying to get him off. Grabbing on with both hands, he began to scale the snake on his knees.

Midway through, he realized the snake couldn't throw him. It was writhing under him, but it was too large to roll in the space. He had only to worry about it trying to slam him into the ceiling. Luckily, it did not. He smiled when he reached the head. Dark blood leaked out of its eye sockets, and Harry knew that was where he would have to stab.

The basilisk began to hiss in fury at him, and to his shock, began to roll. Harry raised the Sword, and thrust it down with both hands, into the left eye socket. There was an incredibly loud hiss, and the snake threw him off, but the sword stayed. After a few moments of flailing, the snake slumped to the ground.

The world shimmered, and Harry found himself back at the circular room. A green check floated over the door he just came from. Looking around, he noted that there were three left, baring the entrance and the special door.

Walking towards the rightmost door, Harry muttered, "What's next? A repeat of the Time Turner from Year three, or a repeat of Year Five?"

A pricked finger later, and the door was swinging open, and Harry had his answer. It was neither; he was once again atop the Astronomy Tower, looking at himself under the Invisibility Cloak. He knew that in a moment, Snape and Malfoy would burst through that door, to kill Dumbledore. Except, there was no Dumbledore.

**"Make the choice, Rune Reader. Fight the desperate fight? Or hide here, in the dark?"**

_That is a toughie. _He thought, _I don't think I can handle Snape and Malfoy. Young Riddle was hard, only because he was just better than me. But Snape is both better and more experienced, and he'll just get rid of any verbal spells I use._

_Well, Gryffindors lead the charge_, Harry smirked, and walked out from under the Cloak, wand at the ready. He cast an Aguamenti and froze the resulting puddle in front of the door. At least he would get a laugh out of this.

The door flew open just as he turned his back to it. Smiling, Harry turned around at the loud thump he heard. Malfoy was lying on the ground, holding his head, and his wand was snapped under him. Snape was just snarling at the blonde fool. Until he saw Harry, that was.

"Potter!" He growled, "Where is Dumbledore?"

"He's on break." Harry replied.

"Now isn't the time to give me cheek, Potter! Death Eaters are attacking the castle."

Harry laughed, "And you're one of them. You are here to make sure Draco kills Dumbledore, or do it yourself."

Malfoy looked up, "What? How does he know about my mission?"

"It is quite simple, Draco, you aren't as cunning as you think," Harry laughed at the glare Snape sent both of them, "But the answer is also simple. You will not reach Dumbledore unless you can go through me."

Snape's lip curled, "Don't try to make me laugh, Potter, you won't like the result."

"Joke's on you, Snape."

Ducking, Harry muttered his counter spell, negating the follow-up Sectumsempra. Snape's eyes widened slightly, but continued. He was incredibly fast, faster than Harry could even mentally form his own spells. But, Harry was quick on his feet, dodging everything.

Hopping to the left, and then lunging back, Harry finally got his first spell off, "_Bombarda!"_

Snape flicked the spell away, causing it to detonate on the bulwark, "You can do better than that, Potter! Or maybe you can't, just like your worthless father!"

Ignoring the barb at his father, Harry kept his cool, forcing down the resultant blood lust from the Bone Wand. He had to make sure he didn't lose it. The Wand called to his darkest desires, and he didn't want to succumb to them, especially not in the Temple of Purity of all things.

Silently, he sent ice spear at Snape, who looked surprised, but dodged nonetheless. But, he had Snape off rhythm, and he took advantage. Harry smirked, sending spell after spell at Snape, until the Potions Master was almost backing into the stairway. The thirst for battle called to him, it blinded him, and he didn't notice Malfoy sneaking up on him.

Harry immediately dropped to the ground, after Draco's swift kick into the soft spot. His vision blurred, and he was gasping for breath. He heard Snape sneer, "Well done, Draco. He got overconfident, just like his father. Like his father, it will be his undoing."

But Harry wasn't done yet. Ignoring the pain, he fired a silent _Bombarda_ at the ground under Snape's feet, and he connected. The bat flew high into the air, and sailed over the rampart. Harry laughed, "Fitting end, I suppose," as he heard Snape yelling as he fell to the ground. It ended as suddenly as it began, leaving only one conclusion to be drawn.

Dusting himself off as the world shimmered and he was taken back to the Room of Decisions, he muttered, "Now who's the overconfident one?"

Another door had the green check on it, and only two remained. It only took a few moments to do the third room. It was a redo of his Third Year, and saving Sirius. At that point, his Patronus was almost second nature, and roared through the dementors.

Now, as he sat down to rest, he only had one room left before the special room. Now, he did wonder what might be in that room. It seemed the pattern, is that the Rooms were emulating various points in his life, just with small changes to add a little flavor. If he made the right choice, he was rewarded with a, relatively speaking, easy way out. If he made the wrong choice, he would be in a fight for his life.

In his mind, he went over the previous choices.

_In the first room, I had to choose between Ron and Hermione. I chose Ron, so Hermione died. If I had chosen Hermione instead, does the dark aura mean she would have joined Riddle? Especially if she didn't know who Riddle really was, it wasn't out of the question that she may have helped him. Just a few suggestions one-way or the other, it was Riddle's specialty after all, and she would have been his puppet. _

_ In the second room, I had to choose between hiding and fighting. I may have made the wrong choice there; I got lucky that Snape fell victim to his own hubris. Third room was literally no choice, I couldn't watch myself and Sirius get our souls sucked out. So what will the fourth room be? Heaven forbid, what will the fifth be?_

He stood up and walked to the last X marked room. The door swung open, and he found himself staring at the Department of Mysteries Death Room. _Gee, what a surprise._ He thought, sarcasm dripping in his mind.

Reviewing his experiences in this room, it was here that Sirius died, and here that Voldemort was revealed to the world. It reasoned to believe that he would have to choose between falling to Voldemort or not, but that would be too easy of a choice. It would also conform, exactly, to his previous experience. None of these ever quite matched up, and there was always some snag.

He was not let down. There was a swarm of Death Eaters, and only Ron, Hermione, Luna, Ginny, and Neville fighting. There were no Order members, and roughly a capacity roomful of Death Eaters. _Fifty at the least, I don't like these odds._

Ron and Hermione stood separate from Luna, Ginny, and Neville. However, Ginny had a broken ankle, and Neville had a bloody nose. Luna was the only full health, so to speak, fighter on the right. On the other side, Ron's arm was broken, and Hermione was suffering from a slow acting curse.

**"Make your choice wisely. Determine your allies, and pick only after great thought. Whoever is not chosen will die, and you will have no reinforcements."**

The decision was hard, unlike the others, and Harry was thankful that he had as much time as he needed to make the decision.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find a good reason to fight for either group. Both looked equally hopeless. There were just so many Death Eaters, and the Room implied that the Order would not show up to save them if he engaged. He was the reinforcements.

It began to dawn on him, that there might have been a third option. In fact, that third option may be the best. It would go against his very nature, and against everything he believed in, but couldn't he just walk away?

He let the Bone wand fall into his pocket, and he removed Slytherin's Locket. In that instant, it became clear. His path became clear. He returned those items to where they belonged, and he turned away from the fight. He opened the door, and reentered the Choice Room. He turned around, and a green check now floated over the door. There was a loud bang, and the door that had been sealed, was now unblocked.

He walked up to the room, and saw the words on the door, "**Purity comes in many forms. Purity of hate, purity of body, purity of spirit, purity of truth, purity of knowledge; they are all different forms of Purity, and nature unshackled."**

The door opened, and Harry walked into a misty meadow. He turned around, and the door slammed shut behind him. It appeared that he was now outside again. The area was large, with stone spires jutting up. A large circle was in the middle of the meadow. White mist, not unlike the ritual, which had revived Voldemort, swirled up from the depths of the circle.

Words could be made out from the decaying arch above him, "There are places where the world of the Living intersects with the world of the Dead. Prepare yourself, ye who have come this far, and face the embodiment of Purity. The Guardian of Purity rises."

_A place where life and death collide and the Guardian will rise. _ Harry thought, _What will the guardian be?_

He walked up to the tower of white mist, and nervously waited as the mist began to coalesce.

* * *

A/N: So who says cliffhangers are dead? . There are a few hints in the chapter. Kindly remember that all the events of this chapter are simply simulations, they did not actually happen, they are just trials to make Harry's life difficult.

I also apologize for the long wait between updates. Its kind of hard to update when you don't have Internet.

Hasta Glacialus: Ice Spear

Robore: Force of Will. Counter spell inspired by MTG card of the same name.

Perforabit incantatores: Spell Pierce: Weak counter spell with the same origins as Robore.

Gelu Iaculis: Frost Thrower. Returning spell from the original Rune Reader, it showers the target in ice.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3 Pure Loyalty

Harry gazed into the eyes of Cedric Diggory, the first casualty of the Second War. "This is no simulation, Harry," Cedric said, cutting through Harry's thoughts.

"I guess this really is a place where the lands of the dead and living intersect." Harry replied, nodding at the archway behind him.

"It isn't the only one, Harry." Cedric said with a smile, "All of the other Temples also feature a location like this."

"So this isn't going to be a onetime occurrence then?" He said with an eyebrow arched.

"For me, perhaps, but there will be others."

"Others?"

Placing his spectral hand on Harry's shoulder, he said, "Yes, others. Try to think of people in your past who are dead that might represent Ferocity, Cruelty, or Truth."

Noting that the hand felt oddly solid, Harry shrugged, "Well, I have plenty of time to figure that out. So, what is this Guardian of Purity that I have to overcome?"

Cedric only laughed. Harry turned away from him, "The Guardian of Purity, if what you say about the other Temples is true, would be someone who represents a facet of purity. Whether it is purity of blood, purity of faith, purity of truth, or…"

"You see it now, don't you?"

Harry drew the Bone Wand, "Purity of loyalty. No one is the quintessential Hufflepuff quite like you, Cedric. You are the Guardian of Purity. Are you going to make this easy on me, or what?"

"You have to overcome the Guardian, so I imagine not. How do you want this? Do you want to fight me, or something to represent me?"

Harry smirked, "That's kind of an odd question. What do you mean?"

"The dead can take multiple forms, so, if it makes you feel better, I can fight you as some animal that also represents purity. Figuratively speaking, that is."

Harry nodded, "Let's go with the animal form then."

"It's been a pleasure to speak with you again, Harry. This is your last chance to turn back." At those words, a barrier of ethereal fire sprung up, leaving only a small gap at the very back. Harry smiled.

"I guess I will show you the purity of courage then." With that, Harry backpedaled away from the spirit of the boy he watched be killed.

Blue flames engulfed the spirit. When they faded, only a massive badger, of all things, remained. It was solid enough, and the glimmering electricity on its claws scared him. It wouldn't due to be hit by those.

The giant badger writhed like a dog out of the bath. It looked like it was shaking off flees, but grey smoke rose instead, and Harry found his vision obscured. He lunged to the left, barely dodging the claws. He ducked down, rolling under it, evading a surely fatal head bite.

Scrambling to the other side of the meadow, Harry took a breath to get his head straight. _Alright, this isn't going to be easy. He's fast, almost too fast. _ He rolled away from the charging animal, _definitely fast._

He threw up a shield to stop the badger in its tracks. It worked, but the badger jumped onto the shield, and flung itself off, landing at its starting point. Harry felt a jolt of electricity as this happened. Dropping the shield and looking around, he saw burn marks on the ground.

Smiling again, and trying to force down his panic, he began to try another plan. Ground residing animals generally did not like flame, so it would fit that fire would work here. He muttered _Incendio,_ and lit the grass on fire.

It didn't have the desired effect. He found himself lunging again to avoid a charge from the giant badger. Now, smoke of his own creation was obscuring his view.

Grinding his teeth in frustration, Harry vanished the smoke. He dodged left and right, avoiding slashes from the badger as it swiped at him. He summoned a rock, and banished it into the badger's snout.

The behemoth recoiled back, and Harry noticed teeth lying on the ground. Confidence restored, Harry began to summon rocks, and banish them at the badger. It growled at him in fury, but was beaten back by the barrage. However, as Harry remembered Cedric being, the badger was smart, and quickly began to evade the rocks, even digging a hole in the ground to hide.

Harry looked around, knowing he'd have no indication of where the badger would rise when it came, and he damn sure wasn't going to fight it under ground. He walked over to the hole, and called upon a spell Hermione had taught him and Ron, but had never intended to use.

"_Fiendfyre!"_

Hellfire burst forth from his wand, and screamed into the hole. It was like an inferno, hell made real and called forth into reality. The Bone Wand transmitted the heat of the fire, burning and searing into his own skin.

Bloodlust from the wand tore at his mind, straining his tenuous control over the hellfire. It already threatened to wrench control away, but still he held on. He closed his eyes, but he could feel the heat in the meadow. He could almost envision the fire writhing under the ground beneath him.

Far across the meadow, a decidedly singed monster of a badger burst from the ground. A pillar of hell fire was only a few seconds behind it. Harry released the spell, and dissipated it. He took a deep breath, winded from holding the fire so long.

The badger reared up, and slammed its claws into the ground. Concussive force knocked Harry from his feet. He landed painfully among the boulders he had been slinging earlier. Sitting up, he saw it rampaging at him, "_Impedimenta!"_

It worked only enough, slowing the badger to allow Harry to skitter out of the way. It slammed into the boulders, howling in pain as the boulders bit into its haunches. Harry saw a victory.

Using _Diffendo_, he cut some boulders on his side into arrowheads and sharpened them. _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_

The boulders levitated as the badger shakily got to its feet. Harry noticed there was now red in its black coat, and he banished his ballistae heads at it.

There was an earth shaking roar, as three giant arrowheads bore into the equally massive badger. It collapsed to the ground, one sticking straight out of its back, having severed its spine. White mist began to gather around the black badger, and it slowly dissolved, leaving only Cedric's spirit behind.

"Well done Harry, I think you proved your pure courage, and some wit, today."

Harry smiled at the teen, "It was certainly tiring, if you want a concession. I hope this is the worst it gets."

"It isn't. I can't tell you who or what you will face at the other temples, but I dare say I was the easiest among them. You only knew me for a year or so, Harry, and we spent most of that year as opponents. It was a freak accident that caused my death, so there's no animosity on my end. However, I cannot say the same for those you may face."

"What do you think about the war, Cedric?" Harry felt himself asking.

"It is stupid. It is a war about stupid ideals, led by stupid men, over stupid traditions. There are some wars that are not stupid, but this is a really dumb war. The only one that might be worse is if a king decided to fight the mother of his illegitimate children over said children because of a slight insult at court."

Harry laughed, "When you put it that way Cedric, it makes a lot more sense. This really is a dumb war. Such a shame so many die for something so pointless, isn't it?"

"I know. Well, you've passed the test of purity, Harry. Step into the mist, and you'll be taken back to the entrance, and your map will be updated with the location of the Temple of Ferocity. That one should be pretty easy for you, as I hear the Guardian is very loath to fight you, and very angry with the powers that chose him."

"Have a good after-life, Cedric." Harry said with a sense of finality.

Cedric responded, "Live a good life, Harry. Pardon my crassness, if you would, but I don't want to see you again for a long time. A very long time, long enough for you to live my life too, if you would."

"Understood," Harry answered, walking into the white mist. It began to swirl viciously and words appeared.

"**Congratulations on finishing the Temple of Purity. But, this is the first of many obstacles, and your choices will not always be this easy. Embrace the power of Runic Sight and Understanding."**

Like in the stone village, the mist began to rush into him, and he felt a brief twinge of pain, before passing out.

* * *

(Spinner's End)

"I hope you appreciate what I am doing for you, Daphne, because if the Dark Lord finds out that I'm not simply 'enjoying you' nor am I trying to persuade you to his side, he will kill both of us, and it will be quite painful." Snape said with the worst sneer he could muster after a long day.

In his doorway, carrying only a small bag with a few pieces of clothing, was a thin waif with grey eyes, and golden blonde hair that used to shimmer in the sun. Now, it hung loosely in knots after what could only be described as "The worst days ever."

Snape brought the wards back up, and walked her into the living room, "Now, most of the time, I will be at Hogwarts. The Dark Lord is growing ever more suspicious of me being a traitor, and I daresay, he is right to be worried. However, that does nothing for my chances of survival."

"Don't worry, Professor, I won't betray your secrets." The girl said, her voice creaking a little.

"I'm sorry I couldn't gain custody of you earlier, but the Dark Lord likes to reward his faithful." Severus muttered, actually meaning those words.

"Thank you, Professor."

"There is food in the fridge, and fresh produce in the cupboard, but it won't keep forever. You best get around to eating it before it rots. I can't guarantee the next time I'll be able to sneak supplies to you, the Dark Lord has taken to monitoring all forms of communication, and even House Elves bear a small amount of risk."

Snape noticed she was shaking in the chair, "Again, I apologize that you had to suffer through that. However, I was unable to intercede."

"I understand. It doesn't make it any better. I can't stop it."

Reaching over and petting her on the shoulder, Snape responded, "Happy thoughts can alleviate the symptoms of the Cruciatus," _Though I myself have very few such thoughts._

His words must have betrayed more than he thought, "Hollow words, Professor. All I can think about, all I can see when I close my eyes, is that _**fucker**_ torturing them. That rat faced bastard tittering on the side like a chipmunk. And my own sister gloating over us, that's what, infuriates me the most."

Snape had been there, for the end she referred to, at least. He remembered the elder Greengrasses looking up at him as if he was the scum of their boots. Darius actually spit on him when he walked too close to him.

There were precious few people who could actually say they were even acquaintances with Severus Snape, mostly due to his more than prickly personality. Darius was different, he was the only Slytherin that didn't pick on him when he was at Hogwarts, mostly due to being younger than Severus. In fact, one might say that Snape rubbed off on the man, he went on to become a Potions Master, just like Severus.

His future wife, on the other hand, was one of Snape's most frequent tormentors besides James Potter and the Marauders. If there was anyone on Earth that Snape had ever hated as much as the Marauders and Harry Potter, it was Gwendolyn Browning. Gwen was three years older than Darius.

They should have been the best of friends; they both came from abusive families, they both excelled at potions and the Dark Arts. _And, we both had amazing best friends that we lost because we made mistakes_, Snape thought with a grimace, remembering Lily.

Collectively, they should have been kindred spirits, but they were not. Instead, they hated each other. Gwen was a Ravenclaw, meaning she saw Snape more consistently without having to seek him out like the Marauders did. She made his life hell, even after Hogwarts. She had been one of several "Star Witnesses" the prosecution had called at his trial. If it hadn't been for Dumbledore rigging the trial, Snape would have had a monkey trial just like Black. They probably would have shared cells.

Snape had enjoyed watching her die, while being pained at the death of the closest thing to an apprentice he'd ever had.

He couldn't tell Daphne that, nor could he turn away the tormented Slytherin who very much did not want to join Voldemort. He'd risked his life for less on Dumbledore's orders before, so this was nothing.

Snape had _that _feeling though. The same feeling he always had around Potter and his friends. The feeling that, although he guarded his secrets to the grave, that someone always knew. He knew, that somehow, Daphne knew.

Paranoia had served Severus very well throughout his tumultuous, treacherous life.

"I must return to Hogwarts before the Carrows go crazy. Fillius is not as adept as I at holding them in check."

After he vanished, Daphne muttered, "You'll get yours one day too, Snape. It just won't be from me."

* * *

A/N: Some people may wonder why I chose Cedric as the Guardian of Purity, you simply have to look at what he represents. He's essentially an innocent bystander who was killed only because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, though a cynical outlook could be that he was killed because of Harry's grandstanding and refusal to take the cup by himself. That cynical outlook is represented by the Badger form he fights Harry in.

This is also the first chapter we see Daphne in.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4 The Dead Kingdom

Remus Lupin sat in Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He was wearing his Phoenix medallion. He looked like he was anticipating an Order meeting, but there was none. There hadn't been an Order meeting in several months now, since before "Operation: Get Potter out of Privet Drive."

Kingsley Shacklebolt was also there. He was there, not as a member of the Order, but of the Welsh Resistance, a remnant Auror force made of all surviving Aurors and DMLE personnel. He had an offer on the table for Remus, but Lupin was reluctant to forsake the Order. Lupin, and all he called friend, had given too much to the Order and gotten too little for him to leave now.

"Lupin, I don't want to beg you, but you are probably the best fighter in all of Britain now. We need you in the Resistance. I don't know what Potter is doing, or why he's doing it, but we need to fight for ourselves now. If he comes, he comes." Shacklebolt intoned.

Remus glared at him, "I am married and my wife is with child. I won't leave her to raise that child by herself."

"You have to help us, Remus. We can help protect Nymphadora. We can help protect your child."

Lupin cut him off, "Like you protected all the Muggleborns? More disappear every day, Kingsley. We know what is happening to them! They are being euthanized like animals."

"Would you have your own son grow up in that world?"

"**Leave", **Remus bellowed, with a force great enough to knock the taller Shacklebolt off his feet, "If you can't accept that I will not fight until my name is called, then you will not call me at all. Leave this place, and do not return. You will see me if I come."

Shacklebolt wrote down a location, "Well, if you come, you will need to know the staging area's location then."

Kingsley left after that, leaving Remus with only his thoughts. Tonks had kicked him out again, after his moodiness had upset her. So Remus went to the only place he could, despite all the bad memories it had.

He remembered seeing Sirius shackled by chains for which there were no keys. He remembered his own verbal dressing down by the son of his best friend. He remembered how bad he felt after that, how guilty he was.

He couldn't fight, not now. He loved Tonks, but he always knew marrying her was a bad idea. Not only was she in more danger than ever before, but he couldn't fight to protect her either.

Magical Britain was a dead kingdom. If Voldemort wasn't stopped soon, Britain in general would be dead. Known Light families were arrested, sometimes executed on sight. Students were being tortured at Hogwarts. What little he heard from Severus, he knew it wasn't his fault, but he still seethed with anger.

Now, the Neutral families were falling. The Greengrasses were the first to fall, but the Davies and Changs, save Cho, soon followed. Other Neutrals were hastily kneeling to Voldemort.

Ever the bearer of bad news, Shacklebolt had also told him of the ICW's response to their cries for aide. It was just a politer version of "Fuck Off." France and Germany were scared shitless. Memories of Grindelwald were fresh on their mind. Everyone else just didn't care.

If any help was going to come, ironically, it would either come from the U.S, the only nation that directly opposed the ICW, or Russia, which had only recently reestablished its ministry after becoming the only nation to have both its magical and muggle constituents ruled by the same person for more than ten years. Napoleon had previously held the record as the only Muggle knowingly, to rule a Magical community.

Whiskey in hand, Remus threw one back. It was stiff, stiffer than Firewhiskey, the typical Wizard beverage of the alcoholic variety. A buzz immediately took hold. His thoughts turned to Tonks, and his unborn child.

Lupin was fairly certain it was a boy, and that he would have some wolfish characteristics from his dad. He wanted to name Harry the godfather, so that even if Harry didn't have any children of his own, he would still have family.

Tonks on the other hand, she was becoming problematic. They loved each other, but they also had their issues. Very few people had the "James-Lily Storybook" love. He and Tonks were one of the many that did not. His dour personality, developed through years of werewolf transformations and watching his dearest friends die young, did not match well with Tonks' over the top personality. If they both survived, he expected to find divorce papers with his morning _Prophet_ eventually.

Hopelessness was not something he could fall victim though. Lupin would fight, and if need be, die for the cause.

Remus passed out after four more drinks.

(Holyhead, Wales)

"Robbards, its Shack."

A middle aged man, roughly forty, sat behind a battered desk in a disheveled office, of a rotting castle in northwestern Wales. Gawain Robbards had light brown, almond colored hair, and walnut colored eyes. He wore wire-rimmed glasses for reading, but otherwise, he didn't need them. He was of average height, with an average build. You wouldn't know he was the most elite Auror currently living in Britain by looking at him.

With a service record dating back to his entrance into the Auror Company at age sixteen, Gawain Robbards was once second only to Amelia Bones and Alistar "Mad-Eye" Moody, though they weren't close by comparison.

Welsh by birth, born as the bastard eighth son to a powerful Pureblood, Gawain had not attended Hogwarts, the only member of the British Auror Corp who did not. As a bastard child, he scrapped a meager living out in Southern Wales before attending the Llewellyn School of Magic, a small, as public as a Wizard's school can be, school on the Welsh Coast.

Thus, he was well prepared, in ways that no other Auror was, for the strain on resources, the sheer attrition that the struggle against Voldemort would bring. Already, his desk was stacked with warning reports, telling of the dwindling supplies that might not take them through the winter.

Voldemort's supporters were not as prevalent in Wales as England and Scotland, but they still existed. With no way to access money, they could not buy food, and they refused to steal just on principle. Still, with hunger gnawing at their stomachs, they would do what the Order of the Phoenix had refused to do: Go down with a fight.

"Lupin refused to join, but he says he will reconsider once his son is born." Shack said disappointment clear on his face.

Gawain rubbed his temples, "Damnable werewolf. We need man power, and it won't matter if his son lives or dies if we can't stop the Dark Lord!"

"I took that angle with him, Robbards."

"I take it didn't go over well."

Shack frowned, "He all but threw me out of the house we met in. I believe he would have become violent if I had not left when I did."

"A shame, then. Still, hope is not lost. We will simply contact him again after the winter." Gawain said, uncertain their resistance would still exist then. Shack voiced those concerns.

"I don't know if we can support the logistics of braving the winter, especially not in this drafty old castle. We've got sickness in the ranks already, and it is not even December yet."

"I know, Shack. I wonder, was it ever this hard for Amelia to command the Aurors?"

"We will never know, she's been dead for over a year." Shack said.

Gawain sighed, "I know. She really should have become Minister. Fuck that political animal Scrimgeour. I thought one of our own would have done better than he did."

"It's his fault, Gawain. We all knew Rufus was more concerned with his standing than the proper course of action. He spent most of his term trying to court Harry Potter."

"In the end, he died for the same reason Fudge lost the Ministry; he was too blind to see what was coming and how bad it truly was. But! We do not have that problem here, and we know how bad it is, and how bad it is going to get. We will not surrender, Shack."

Shacklebolt smiled at his superior, "Well said, Gawain. However, will we be able to back it up?"

Gawain stood up, and walked over to a window. Beneath them, his men were training their newest recruits, "What we lack in numbers, we make up for in elitism. What we lack in logistics, we make up for in dedication. What we lack in materials, we make up for in spirit! The war will not be lost, Shack."

"We can't lose a war that's already over."

Gawain turned back his second in command, "That's the spirit. Eventually, the hatred for the Dark Lord will overwhelm their fear of him. Machiavelli says that it is better to be feared than loved, but he does not know the people's will."

"The people's will?"

"Tyranny cannot persist, Shack. It will destroy itself. Just like Hitler's madness aided the destruction of his Reich, just like Stalin's Purge helped destabilize the Soviet Union, just as Napoleon decided to fight the world, and just as Julius Caesar had been killed by his friend, Voldemort would fall to the will of the People. The desires of the people to be free, free from the shackles of fear and sorrow, the desire to live in peace and to live as one chooses will always override the fear of authority ill-gotten."

There were claps in the background. Gawain frowned, "I hope you aren't mocking me, Shack."

Kingsley smirked, "Never, Gawain. Still, we'd better figure out something with the supplies, or we're just fucked."

Gawain said with a small smile of his own, "We will be taking back what belongs to us, Shack. The Dark Lord will not stop us."

Shack left, but Gawain heard him say, "By Merlin, I sure hope so."

Gawain turned back to his recruitment reports. It seemed that the Welsh were a little more willing to fight the Darkness than their English cousins were. Recruitment numbers were spiking, and those who couldn't fight were donating what they could to the effort.

The news was not so good from Ireland. Ignoring the animosity between the Irish and the English they shared these isles with, there was a general reluctance to aid the Ministry of Magic.

Each sub-nation of the United Kingdom, that being Scotland, England, and Wales, had their own Ministries. However, all of these Ministries answered to the primary branch, the United Kingdom Ministry in London, which is the Ministry most Wizards know of.

Ireland's Ministry was paralyzed by its constituents, many being dark sympathizers, into inaction. It was a recipe for disaster, as Gawain had experienced personally with the fall of the U.K. Ministry.

_No one seems to realize that if we do not fight, we will still die all the same. _Gawain thought, his eyes glaring a hole in the parchment.

There would be no help from Ireland. The Scottish, on the other hand, were in full war mode. They were marshalling their forces in Caithness, as Gawain was marshalling the Welsh and English forces at Calenardhon. The fellows at Edinburgh liked Voldemort about as much as your average Muggleborn, so there was no surprise there. However, that did not explain exactly why most of Voldemort's strongholds were in Scotland. _There's one more letter._

Grabbing his letter opener, Robbards slit the letter open. His eyebrows rose as he read the long passage. He smirked behind the letter, "They've agreed, Kingsley."

About to leave, Shacklebolt turned back, surprise etched on his face, "Agreed to what?"

"We're reuniting in our defiance. We are a new coalition, a new United Kingdom. We will stand against the Dark Lord."

(With Harry)

He didn't know how, but he was somehow underground, in a cavern filled with lava, or more appropriately, magma. Harry had woken up after stepping in to the mist, only to find himself in a small room with only one door. There were words over the door.

"**Prove your ferocity."**

He noted how hot it had been, and though the knob had burnt him, he twisted it and opened the door. Thus, he found himself staring at rivers of magma.

The orange-red glow and furious heat did nothing for his mood. The map at the back of Beedle's Tales only indicated that the Temple of Ferocity was somewhere past this cavern. With no food or water, dangerous sulfur levels, and likely a limited supply of oxygen, he was going to have to prove his ferocity the only way he knew how.

By surviving no matter how hard someone or something tried to kill him.

Harry overlooked the small entry chamber. There were a number of perilous jumps that would no doubt kill him if he missed, and the platforms he was going to be aiming for didn't look very stable either. After thinking about it for a moment, he decided to jump.

He missed. Badly. To his surprise, the platform he aimed for _moved_ out of the way at the last second, letting him only skim his foot on the ledge, before tumbling over. Realizing he didn't have much time, Harry tried to summon the ledge.

Well, it didn't work the way he intended, but the spell slingshot him back towards the ledge, letting him grab on after almost flying off again.

He breathed a sigh of relief, and stood on the small pillar. The nearest ledge was well beyond jumping distance, even if he had a running start. But, it was at a lower height, so he would take another leap of faith. Gryffindors didn't falter.

His heart soared into his throat as he freefell. His arms flailed wildly as he reached out for the ledge. He grabbed it, and winced in pain. Gritting his teeth, he pulled his other arm up, and swung onto the larger platform.

The shoulder was killing him, and he could barely move it. It was dislocated. He didn't know any healing spells, except Episkey, which healed fractures. It couldn't reset his shoulder, and he didn't know a numbing spell. So he did the next best thing. He iced it.

The relief was instant, but he figured it wouldn't last long in the burning heat. So he lined up his next jump, and let fly.

This time, he took it straight to the chest, landing on the ledge. Holding on for dear life, and ignoring the pain in his ribs now, he pulled himself up. He was halfway down. He stumbled, and looked down.

Harry's eyes widened. He hadn't stumbled, the platform was tipping! He ran towards the edge, and broad jumped with his arms spread wide.

The sulfuric air rushed through his hair as he free fell. This time, however, he leaned forward, accelerating his fall. He could see the rock formation he need to land on. The door wasn't far from it. He threw his weight forward, egging himself to move faster. He was accelerating, now, what was that spell Dumbledore had used on him in Third Year? He remembered Hermione talking about it later.

Whipping his wand out, and pointing it at himself as he neared the platform, he shouted, "_Arresto Momentum!"_

His descent, despite being breathtaking and furious, slowed immediately. He threw his feet out, and landed smoothly. "Bloody hell, that was awesome!" He said with a smile. He walked up to the door, and threw it open.

He regretted it immediately, as an even more vicious surge of heat hit him. He opened his eyes, straining against the heat, and saw why. He was almost literally on the magma, and there was only a small, narrow, hair's breadth bridge to the other side. Harry didn't know if he could set his feet, it was so narrow. It was also position, inconveniently, over a rushing river of magma.

Taking a deep breath, he lined his feet up. He would likely have to march heel to toe in order to cross it. He began his trek across.

With his eyes closed, it was easier to visualize the path he needed to walk. Holding his arms abreast, he marched calmly across the stone balance beam. He heard a rumble, and opened his eyes. he regretted it.

Panic flared in his heart as he noticed the magma was _**rising**_. He took heavy breaths to steady himself, and kept up his march. He could feel the heat growing more intense. Sweat was running down his neck. He could taste the salt, and feel the sting in his eyes.

Suddenly, his eyes flew open. He was on the home stretch! But the magma was almost on his heels, and he could feel his shoes beginning to melt. Therefore, he booked it.

He kept his balance remarkably, though he didn't notice it. He ran as fast as he possibly could, darting across the remaining thirty feet or so of the bridge as though it were nothing. He reached the shore right as the magma began to curl over the edges.

He flung the door open, and jumped out.

_Cold._ Was his only thought, as he stood up, brushing snow off his shoulder. He was standing in a veritable blizzard, almost whiteout conditions. The wind sliced through him. Harry enlarged his supplies, and pulled out an extra shirt. He threw it on, and shrunk the bundle. He trekked onward.

Soon, a large temple, similar in structure to the previous Temple of Purity, began to emerge. Snow was caked on its archways, and it was an easy walk inside.

A/N: The Temple of Ferocity is where we'll start to see why I say this story was heavily inspired by Avantasia's _Savior in the Clockwork._

__A double update?: Well, I haven't exactly had a lot of free time over the last few weeks, so to make up for the delay.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 5 Where the Clockhands Freeze

The world had shimmered again, and Harry found himself staring at a giant clock. It was several stories tall, and it took up the entire inside wall of the Temple of Ferocity. The hands were permanently stopped on twelve. Words were engraved on the clock.

"**How could I let it get this far? To the edge, I've been drawn only by promises. Is the only reason for a heart to misguide me?"**

On the hands, were the words: "**They deny me, tie me to fantasy. They will curse the darkest hour, when in oblivion, I die."**

Harry raised an eyebrow at these words. They were not the demands of the previous temple, or even the cavern en route. He opened the Tales, and looked at the map. The map now showed his location in Iceland.

_Great, I'm in Iceland while Voldemort tries to take over the world. Never mind how I actually got here. Sometimes, magic isn't great, it's just confusing, _Harry thought with a laugh. Still, that didn't solve his problems, namely, how in the world was he supposed to proceed forward?

There was a small orb in front of him. It was a dull grey, unmarked, and overall unappealing. Harry would have completely missed it, if he hadn't been looking directly at it while pondering his path forward.

He walked over to the orb, and picked it up. Again, his opinion that it was a useless ball was reinforced, until a small spark of red flared on the back. Turning it over, he saw a small string of runes. Under normal circumstances, he would not have been able to read those runes, even if he knew the runic languages. However, thanks to the gift of Lucidity from the Temple of Purity, he knew what they meant.

"**Is it only fantasy?"**

They were written in runes with the elemental signature of fire, but otherwise, he couldn't recognize the language. He just, understood the meaning.

Still, the runes did not help him. They merely, gave him something to ponder. Flipping open the ancient book from the village, he began to read. There were spells of the blood to reveal secrets, but Harry was still reluctant to use them, despite how the Bone Wand called to it.

The book began to imply that sometimes it was better to think literally than outside of the box. For some reason, this seemed to jar Harry from his wonderland, and he put the orb in his pocket. The effect was immediate.

With a giant screech, the hands of the clock began to move. They completed a full rotation, and with more ear splitting screeches, a large door opened in the face of the clock. Harry chuckled, and put the book back into his supply bag, shrunk it, and walked on.

His first impression of the room he entered was, "Wow, how in the world did they fit this into such a tiny place?" before remembering the wonders of magic. Pendulums swung, and gears twirled. There was a persistent _ticking_ sound throughout the entire location, fitting, since he was in a clock after all.

There was a small pedestal in front of him. He pulled the orb out, and placed it on the pedestal. There was a groan, and the door closed behind him. All movement stopped. Every platform was frozen in space.

Harry pondered the advantages to this sort of suspended animation. The platforms did not move, but if they were not in a position he could use, then he was in trouble. He could already tell there were areas he would not be able to reach with the current orientation. There was also no way he'd be able to get past the pendulums if he didn't stop it at the right moment. Now, how to restart the movement?

He picked up the orb, and movement began. He placed the orb back on the pedestal, and once again, everything ceased motion. _If I didn't think it was so outlandish, this would make a great story._ Harry thought.

He could see the first door on a ledge to his far right, way up. It would require precise stops to get the platforms in a way he could jump safely between them. He observed carefully, and froze the room. Almost, the third platform was just a little too high for him to reach, so he tried again.

_Bingo._ The platforms froze in the exact positions this time. Harry left the orb on the pedestal, and hurried forward, ignoring the clicking. He clambered on to the first platform, and swung his leg up to the second. Then, it happened.

Time unfroze, and the platforms began moving again. Harry panicked, and flung himself onto the platform, almost throwing himself into a bottomless pit. He held on, and managed to steady himself. He hadn't counted on the time freeze being a temporary effect, though he did imagine it would be too easy if it wasn't.

Now, he had to deal with the pendulum swinging between the second and third platforms. It had an annoying habit of always swinging between when the third platform was at its closest. Still, he wasn't a Gryffindor for no reason, and he took a chance, leaping as the pendulum swung away, and the platform had just started to move.

He almost missed it. He narrowly grabbed hold with his fingers, and he thanked Merlin and God for being a scrawny rat, as he pulled himself up. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. Luckily, the door was right in front of him.

The room he entered was…unusual at best. It looked like it had been designed by the Mad Hatter himself. Brilliant colors splashed all over the room, they seemed as though they were alive. There were patterns within the rainbows, but he couldn't discern them; they just gave him headaches if he tried.

The colors weren't the only out of place things in the room; there were cats everywhere. Every Fucking Where. They were all sorts of different colors too, there was even a cat who had a red face, a yellow body, and a blue tail, with green stripes!

To top it all off, there was one of those things from a carnival in the middle of the room. One of those muscle machines that was always rigged, with an overly large hammer nearby and all.

He walked up to the machine, ignoring the cats that started rubbing against his legs as he walked. It was an endeavor for sure, as he tripped constantly. Finally, he was in front of the machine. There was a door behind the machine, but it had a lock on it. Words from the door floated up.

"**Prove your ferocity and show your strength!"**

Harry sighed; feats of strength really weren't his gig, especially once he became a wizard. He looked at the categories, and laughed. They ranged from "Bro, Do you even lift?" to "Legit" to YOLOswagJezus" to "Seriously Black Machine." He noted that all of these categories were still below, "Low man on the totem pole."

Harry just shook his head, and picked up the hammer, before almost falling over. He scowled at the hammer, the thing was heavy! He put his back into it, and lifted it up. He swung down.

"You have to be kidding me, there's no way I didn't hit it harder than 'Bro, do you even lift?'"

Exasperated, Harry swung again. Again, he only got to the lowest category, and barely at that. He sat down to take a break, and was swarmed by cats. Petting one on the head, he decided to reflect on what this might be trying to teach him. It was delightfully juvenile, the kind of thing Sirius would have pulled when he was bored, but it didn't fit with the overall theme of the Temple.

He decided to try again, stumbling over cats, and picked up the hammer again. He swung it with as much force as he could muster. The bead moved up to "Legit" Harry threw the hammer on the ground. Finally, he just got pissed, and shot a Reductor curse at the bell. It rang clearly before it was immolated, and the door unlocked.

"You have to be fucking kidding me."

(At Hogwarts)

Harry Potter wasn't the only person having a bad day. Severus Snape was having a bad day too, and, arguably, the Muggleborns were having an even worse day. Snape threw his empty bottle of Firewhiskey at Dumbledore's portrait, which didn't even cause the old man to flinch.

"Fucking Carrows. Inviting the Lestranges for an 'Afternoon Dinner' at a school full of blood traitors and Muggleborns? I thought we were trying to keep the peace, not fucking kill everyone!"

Dumbledore chided, "Language, Severus. Now, it isn't that bad. Is it?"

Severus looked affronted, "Is it that bad? Here I thought you might have a better grip of reality dead than alive, but I guess I was wrong. It was bloody hell on earth! If the Dark Lord doesn't do it for me, I might just off myself and be done with it."

"Now, now, Severus. I understand that it can be frustrating, but you really need to look on the bright side." Dumbledore chimed.

Snape didn't buy it, "There isn't a bright side. It's just the same thing, day after day. 'Oh Severus, Alecto tried to Crucio Patil!' or 'I heard that Amycus has taken to soiling the mudbloods now.' Damn them to hell, I didn't know what I was signing up for."

"You could have expected this, Severus. I expected better of you than this."

Snape glared at Dumbledore's portrait, "I'm sure you did."

"Be honest, Severus. While it is deplorable that we have those abhorrent fools making a travesty of the profession of teaching, it honestly could have been much worse. After all, we could have Bellatrix Lestrange here teaching Defense." Dumbledore said, with an unhelpful smile.

"Gee, that sounds so wonderful." Snape muttered, "You are such a mood brightener!"

It was a good thing that Weasley and her bunch had taken to hiding. Snape was losing patience, and would soon be unable to control the Carrows. What Dumbledore had thought, believing that he was the best choice for his successor, Severus would never know. Granted, being a high ranking Death Eater made one privy to the Dark Lord's plans, but the Dark Lord did not share his secrets, nor did he seek their council.

Frustration was evident in his features. He wasn't getting enough sleep, and he would soon be developing a dependence on alcohol; a dangerous thing for a wizard. Alcohol in toxic quantities interfered with the magic coursing in a wizard's veins, and a drunkard was ever at risk of taking the proverbial 'Last Call' and consume too much, causing his body to react…violently.

Though it worried Severus, he ignored the little calls in his head as he sat about cracking open another bottle of Firewhiskey. Behind him, he could feel the disapproving glares of the other Headmasters and Headmistress. One even remarked on him being a vile and repulsive man. Severus would never dispute that claim, for indeed, he was a vile man.

Once upon a time, he had cared only for his own skin and bones. Hence, the reason he joined the Death Eaters. Though Lily's dismissal of him seared his memories, and would burn for his life, he grew to tolerate it. The Death Eaters hardened him, turned him into a killing machine. Then, he overheard the Prophecy.

He had learned to tolerate his memories, but years of bitter warfare, warfare which he saw the frontlines as a grunt Death Eater, had restored his faith in the light. It brought back memories of when he hadn't been such a bitter man, when he hadn't been a lone wolf trying to survive the winter. The Prophecy was the breaking point, and Severus Snape betrayed the Dark Lord in the name of a memory that would never live again.

In that process, however, he also betrayed the very memory he betrayed the Dark Lord in the name of, and his one request, the sparing of Lily Evans Potter, was ignored. Thus, Severus Snape spent a long ten years dwelling on his past. He became, finally, the dark wintery bastard that many Hogwarts students feared, and many more associated with Slytherin in general.

Now, sixteen years later, after a ring of betrayals that would leave the entire Wizarding World calling for his blood, Severus Snape sat in the one office he never thought he ever would, placing his hopes on the subject of one of his small joys in life. Though he had no doubt he would die in this war, some things are simply fate after all, he only felt empty when he thought of Harry Potter.

He hated Harry Potter for more reasons than just his resemblance to James Potter. He hated Harry Potter because Potter was everything Snape had ever hoped to be. Despite claims to the other wise, Snape was aware of Potter's residence and the conditions of such residence, especially early in life. Though he despised the very idea, he was just an older version of Ronald Weasley, jealous of a child who had no control over the event that made him famous.

Snape chuckled darkly; what would the world think if they knew Harry James Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, had more in common with Lord Voldemort and Severus Tobias Snape than he had with James Charles and Lily Marie Potter? Granted, Severus did, and very grudgingly so, have to admire Potter for his adherence to the Canticles of Light, so to speak.

However, all three grew up in abusive homes that housed at least one Muggle who hated magic with a passion. One only had to look at Potter to know he greatly disliked his relatives. Tobias Snape was the only person that Severus Snape hated more than James Potter. The Dark Lord's policy on Muggles was based on his own experiences with them from the orphanage he grew up in.

All of them had looked upon the Wizarding World, and Hogwarts, as a new beginning. For Potter and Snape, that new beginning was spoiled almost as soon as they tried to start it. Hindsight may be perfect, but looking back, he knew that his best friend being sort into a different house, much less the one house that hated his own, and the same house as the boy who'd already tried to show dominance over him, should have been an omen for how said friendship would eventually turn out. Hell, it had been an omen for almost his entire life.

Potter, on the other hand, if Dumbledore's portrait was to be believed, had pointedly refused to be sorted into Slytherin under the Sorting Hat, practically forcing it to sort him in Gryffindor. Originally, Snape had thought this to be a supreme act of arrogance, but in time, it was one of the few things that he actually respected Potter for. Plenty of other wizards had the same opinion of Slytherin that Potter did, and the Sorting Hat did not bow to them, placing them in Slytherin all the same. But it bowed to Harry Potter, because, even in his youth, he showed the uncanny willpower that, according to Dumbledore, would power them through the war.

Gryffindor would eventually prove to be just as much a hive of hornets as a den of lions, as just losing roughly a hundred fifty points in championship of pride had caused the Gryffs to turn icy on Potter. It only grew worse, even to observers from afar, as Potter's unique, albeit few, talents emerged.

Snape grimaced, again reminded of how foolhardy Dumbledore had been. Harry Potter was many things, but talented was not one. Fittingly, just as the Dark Lord and he had, Potter excelled at Defense, though that was all he excelled. He was also an excellent Quidditch player, but otherwise, he was useless. At least James Potter had been talented. A talented asshole, yes, but talented nonetheless, and had actually turned into a decent human being before his premature death.

The Dark Lord was the only one of the three to not have the Wizarding World soured upon entry. Instead, he made roads, made alliances, and excelled, perhaps as an omen of things to come. For the Dark Lord, this was the last of his journey alongside of him and Potter, despite his eerily similar looks to Potter.

It would take four years, but Potter would finally reunite with him on the journey of Life, he laughed in his mind. The horribly bad fifth year was something all Hogwarts students could attest to. The Marauders, stressed by O. , even considering their talents, decided to blow steam by targeting him progressively more as the year moved on. This culminated in arguably the worst day of his life, and it marked a turning point.

Potter's fifth year was marred by disbelief and insults as well. He had to deal with Dolores Umbridge as a teacher, a fate that he wouldn't wish even on James Potter. He had to deal with his allies blatantly ignoring him, despite his calls for help. It culminated in the death of Potter's Godfather, the only paternal figure Potter had ever had, and by his own hands in a fashion.

Since then, the world had ended, and the Dark Lord had risen to power twice. But this time, there was a chance there would be no downfall.

Snape screwed the top back on his Firewhiskey, and went to bed.

(With Harry)

After the carnival machine fiasco, Harry had a relatively easy time maneuvering his way through the Temple of Ferocity. Most of the obstacles he was facing seemed to be jokes, like the recurring cat theme.

However, the Temple was ramping up its difficulty. He was sweating as he levitated a giant gear into a position to restart the clockwork. He would immediately have to jump, or he would be crushed by the cogs around him. His objective was a platform in the center of the room, directly below the gear he was maneuvering. He would like to have been closer, but the cog he was standing on was tilting already, so he would have to risk a jump.

`He ground his teeth as he wedged the gear in place. He raced into action, as the gears began to turn around him. Harry took a hurried breath and leapt for the platform, almost slipping as the gear he stood on turned.

He grabbed a hold of the ledge, and pulled himself up, wincing in pain. He sat down for a moment, to get his breath back. Laying back, Harry closed his eyes to rest a moment. The tasks the Temple asked of him were becoming more and more physically taxing. He still had to deal with his dislocated shoulder, though he had become almost immune to its pain by now.

Still, he was near the very top of the Clock now. That meant he would probably be stumbling across the Guardian soon. His fight with Cedric/Hufflepuff's Honey Badger came to mind, and he made a vow to improve his abilities to combat large things in tight spaces.

Speaking of Cedric, Harry wondered who the Guardian of Ferocity might be. Cedric had said that people from his past who were dead were those with the greatest chance to be selected as Guardians. It was likely, then, that those with special significance to him would be selected. Thus, he would have to prepare himself mentally to face his parents in battle, and even Dumbledore.

He brought his mind back to the task at hand. He still had to reach the Guardian. Harry opened the last door.

In front of him was another giant clock. There seemed to be a panel in front of it. Unlike the clock at the very beginning of the temple, this one functioned normally. The panel had words on it.

**"Unravel the great mystery of the Clockwork."**

Throughout the Temple, Harry had found lines similar to those at the very beginning. They seemed to reference a story, the story of someone who was called the Savior in the Clockwork. The general gist of the story was about a scientist who discovered a device outside his home one day.

The scientist had believed he could use the device to save his people, who's society was on the verge of collapse. He discovered the device could stop time, allowing him to work as hard and as long as necessary on his project, which he believed would save his people. The device had the side effect of making him seem less real, making him fade from reality the more he used it. Eventually, he completed his project.

However, the scientist's people were not pleased at his development. They felt he had defied fate, and he had broken too many of their own decrees in his haste to save them. Therefore, they condemned him to death. In desperation, he activated the Time Device and sealed himself within it, completely fading from reality, while still able to communicate through dreams. He became known as the Dweller within the Dream.

Harry took the Bone Wand, and held the orb up to the panel. Runes were now engraved all across the orb; it glowed like a star, dimming the light of the torches within the temple. It was no longer clay, it was made of a glass like substance, and more runes floated around the glass, while a conglomerate of colors shined within.

"Grant me just one look into the Mystery beyond!" He commanded, and the orb responded, the lights turning blue, and dancing across the walls. The clock's hands froze.

The vision came to him. He could see another, someone else holding an orb just like the one he held. He was marveling at the artwork; happy, no, ecstatic at his accomplishment. No doubt, that man was the orb's creator. The man was speaking.

"Silence does not speak. It does not talk, it does not respond. Eternity may cease, but with this, maybe our fortunes can be changed. Maybe, the world can still be saved!"

At that moment, there was a crash, and several heavily armed persons rushed the man. They looked like goblins, and they threw the man to the ground, confiscating the orb.

The head of the goblins spoke, "So you were marveling at the artwork in your hands, reaching details that were frail and beautiful. But, you forgot our laws. Items such as these are never to be created, never to be released."

"The act of creation is inviolate!" The man shouted, "It is not your place to judge me for doing what I have felt is necessary for the survival of our races!"

The goblin sneered, "I will hear the silence of our race before I see this used."

"You will hear the screams of thousands if you do not use it! It is the key to the future! If you do not use it, your race will be condemned to thousands of years of slavery."

He laughed, "So the seers have said, but such is skullduggery at best, and pure rubbish at worst. They say our entire civilization will be destroyed, and all of our advances rendered moot. This, however, is not the answer."

He turned to the other Goblins, "Kill him!"

Swords were drawn, and the man was forced to his knees. Harry watched in horror. But, as the executioner's blade fell, the man disappeared. The goblins cursed. However, the goblin chief continued onward, his eyes full of greed as he caressed the orb.

The vision faded, and Harry returned to reality. He had just seen the ending moments of the story the Temple had been telling him. He looked back at the orb, and wondered what it could possibly be, if it was created to save a civilization.

That brought him to another interesting point. No one knew exactly how or why the Goblins worked underneath humans, given that they won most of the rebellions. Something always happened to enslave them again, though with greater and greater concessions. He now knew that Humans and Goblins had once not only coexisted as equals, but even lived and worked together. It was Goblin greed that destroyed that union, and it was human greed that prevented it from being reforged. The orb was proof that the story had actually happened.

That being said, he was at a complete loss as to what the orb actually did. It seemed to have the power to stop time, albeit in a very limited capacity. Other than that, it looked very pretty. He'd have to prod on it a little after this was over, just like the book.

The clock disappeared. All that remained was a large set of doors, not unlike the gates of Hogwarts. Harry pushed them open, and he knew. He had found the arena he where would face the Guardian of Ferocity.

Large arches ran overhead. Words were engraved on them, "**Ferocity is measured not just in the heart and body, but also in the mind."**

He passed through the archways, and entered the open air, circular arena. A large column of green mist rose from a summoning circle. It reached into the heavens. Harry looked around at the scenery. The Temple must have been built into a volcano, using magic long lost. Alternatively, perhaps it was built in the times when Goblins and Humans had worked together. Who knew?

A figure began to emerge from the green mist. Harry braced himself for who the Guardian of Ferocity would be. The figure said, "I've seen the future, Harry, and it is Black."

Harry had lost track of how many times he had said, "You have to be fucking kidding me."

A/N: Alright, so a little insight on how this story will possibly turn out. Using the Three Act system, we're at about the half-way point for the First Act, titled "The Quest for Power." This act will likely end around Chapter 13 or so (give or take a couple), which will begin the Second Act, "Voldemort's Gambit". After the Second Act, will come the Final Act, "Final War", which will take place after Voldemort's final gambit and the ramifications thereof.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 6 Anti-Climatic

Sirius smirked at him, "Surprised to see me Harry?"

"Just a little," Harry conceded, "But I've been told to expect someone I know. I guess it is for maximum shock value, right?"

"Not quite. It is intended to be extremely difficult, and the idea of fighting your passed loved ones is supposed to be difficult." Sirius said, "For you, who cherish those few memories you do have, it is the chosen path. For someone who has little reasons to remember his family, would likely just face demons or other creatures."

Harry nodded in understanding. Growing up with the Dursleys, who hated him with a passion, and being tormented for even daring to mention the words mom or dad, caused him to cherish those few memories he had. Even after finding out more from his teachers and Sirius about his parents, he found himself holding those memories as close to the vest as possible. That tendency was now being used against him, and it was very likely he would face his parents eventually.

For what it was worth, Harry dreaded that day.

"Anyway, Harry, I have a proposition. I'm sure you know about the Veil, right?" Sirius asked.

"Of course. I asked as much as I could after you went through to see if there maybe was a way to save you. Why?"

Sirius laughed, "Because you might get your wish. The Veil is sort of like these Temples, a place where the land of the living and the realm of the dead intersect. However, those whose bodies are thrown into the Veil do not truly die. Their souls are forced from their bodies, sort like Dementors. In fact, Dementors are created by Veils, and yes, plural. Almost every Ministry in the world has at least one, and I hear they have seven in China."

"So what are you saying, Sirius?"

He continued, "If you acquire the Deathly Hallows, you will be able to take command of the Veil. You could force it to spit those of us who found our bodies inside of it back out. In other words, you would be able to bring the executed back to life. However, this will only work for those who have died to the Veil."

Harry nodded, "Well, I think Dumbledore intended for me to get the hallows, because he left me the Tales of Beedle the Bard. I think my Invisibility Cloak may be Death's cloak. I think Riddle's ring was the Resurrection Stone."

Sirius smirked, "Well done Harry! Now, the Elder Wand is in Dumbledore's grave. I don't know where the Stone is now. It is up to you to find it. Now, want to make a deal? You find the Hallows, and bring us back. In exchange, you don't fight me, and can get on to the next Temple."

Harry shrugged, "Sounds like a deal."

"Alright, step into the green mist, and you will be back in the Forest of Dean. I don't know why this Temple is in Iceland, I think it has to do with an ancient civilization."

With that, Sirius' spirit faded into green mist. The Temple acknowledged him, and he walked into the green mist.

**"You have completed the second challenge, Reader. Embrace the knowledge of the First Command, and feel the power it grants."**

The world shimmered, and Harry lost consciousness as the green mist rushed into him.

* * *

(At the Shell Cottage)

To say that life was not great for Ronald Weasley and his girlfriend, Hermione Granger, might be a bit of an understatement. In general, things had not gone well for Ron since leaving Harry in the Forest of Dean a week or so ago.

Shell Cottage was a quaint little place on the near the Cliffs of Dover, overlooking the sea. It was perfect for a couple on their honeymoon, but it was miserable for a group of four. He and Hermione had to alternate between who got to sleep on the one guest bed, and the futon in the sitting room.

His parents were disgusted with his cowardice. His father refused to speak to him, and the Twins only glared when they caught sight of him. His mother was angry, but nothing else. He'd been surprised when his dad refused sanctuary to them, and instead, called his eldest brother.

Bill was displeased, but less so than his father. However, that didn't mean he didn't go out of the way to make Ron and Hermione do as much of the household work as possible. Fleur was downright unbearable. They had both received a Howler from Gabrielle. It had been mostly in French, but the shrill screeches had gotten her point across.

Nevertheless, Ron was grateful to at least have a warm meal every night before bed, and he was sleeping on a real bed as well. Hermione was a different story.

Unlike Ron, who did not immediately regret his actions, Hermione did. So much so, in fact, that they had to Stun her to keep her from going back. She had turned the sitting room into an impromptu duelers ring, and had done an admirable job of fending off Bill and Ron, as well as Fleur for neigh on twenty minutes. She hadn't spoken to any of them for three days after.

Eventually, Bill had managed to convince her that, in the off chance that Harry was still in the same place he had been, there was a good chance she would merely lead Death Eaters to his location. That mellowed her considerably.

Ron shrugged as he trimmed the hedges in the backyard. It didn't mean anything. He would find Harry again when the time was right. Just because he didn't immediately regret it, didn't mean he did not regret abandoning his best friend.

His greatest surprise came on the third day back, when Snape showed up. He had a girl with him, who Ron recognized as a Slytherin from his year. Daphne, he thought her name was. He immediately did not want anything to do with the girl, she was one of the most frequent of Harry's criticizers, outside of Malfoy. Granted, her arguments were solidly back up with a semblance of logic, something Hermione still insisted most wizards did not have; that didn't make it any better.

Greengrass did not exactly ease his opinion of her. She stood in the doorway, shaking like a leaf in a gale. She had been sopping wet, her dress clung messily to her body, dripping water on Bill's hardwood floor. Her hair had been scraggily, tangled in a mess of knots.

Ron had overheard Snape talking to Bill. Snape wanted to find a place for Greengrass to hide, since the rest of her family had been killed, and You-Know-Who had issued her the "Join us or die" ultimatum. Luckily, for him, and unfortunately for Snape and Greengrass, Bill had refused them sanctuary. Bill had said that if he hadn't already had a couple of freeloaders, he would have gladly hid her. Ron had to keep from blowing the door open at that one.

Neither Ron nor Hermione had ever seen Snape look as stressed or frustrated as when he left with Greengrass. He hadn't even flicked them his traditional sneer.

In other Order news, Shacklebolt and most of the Aurors had joined up with Gawain Robbards in Wales. It was a tad strange, most of the Order seemed to think Gawain had been the leak that allowed You-Know-Who into the Ministry so easily. In reality, Gawain had tried to rally the Aurors, but after realizing how hopeless the battle was, he splintered away. He was now trying to form his own resistance group, and seemed to be garnering some of You-Know-Who's attention.

Tonks was now quite visibly pregnant, and she would likely give birth sometime in February. Remus occasionally visited, but he was quite grim and a poor conversation to say the least. He'd been downright scathing when he last visited.

"Hey, Ron, how do you think the Horcrux hunt is going?" Hermione asked in a hushed whisper. She had placed a few privacy charms to keep Bill and Fleur from asking questions.

"I don't know. I mean, it's all on Harry now, isn't it? Do we even know where most of them are?" Ron answered.

"That's not the case anymore, Ron." Hermione said back, "Bill brought a few goblins here the other day. Do you think he knows?"

"I don't know, but if he does, it could be a good thing."

Hermione sighed, "I know, I wish Harry hadn't sworn us to secrecy about this. We need help, and unless he wants it, we can't seek it. Bill's probably the best option we have. Who better than a professional Curse Breaker to deal with cursed objects like Horcruxes? But no, we need to keep the secret because Dumbledore said so."

Ron flinched at the venom in Hermione's voice. It wasn't like her to get this worked up. He replied, "I've wondered about that myself. Why is it so important that we not tell anyone about the Horcruxes? I mean, if Dumbledore thought it was important to keep it a secret, then it must be dangerous. I agree though, we need help, and who would be more familiar with them than Bill?"

"It is dark magic thought, extremely dark. It would take a lot of explaining, and I don't think Bill or Fleur would be particularly interested in explanations given their current opinion of us."

Head meet nail right there. Dark magic was dark magic, and anyone who didn't support You-Know-Who would try to kill them for even uttering such a dark word. They would have to find a better way to get help.

* * *

(Back with Harry)

Harry woke up on his back in a small clearing. He was back in the Forest of Dean now. In fact, he was back in the Muggle side of the forest as well. He took the Tales out, and checked the map. The next location was nowhere near his current position, and wasn't even in the Forest. It appeared to be a village in northern Wales.

_Wait, wasn't Godric's Hollow in Wales? _Harry realized. The next Temple, the Temple of Cruelty, was in his hometown! Perhaps he would finally be able to visit his family's graves, something he'd always wanted to do, but was never able for a variety of reasons.

The Temple of Cruelty would likely have something to do with Dark Lords. Since Harry knew that Dumbledore had grown up in Godric's Hollow, thanks to Rita Skeeter's abominable book, there might be information on the Temple, and any Horcruxs, there. He still had the Slytherin Locket, though its harmful effects were less noticeable than originally, it still tried to call to his immense dislike for Ron and Hermione. For some reason, it did not interact with the bloodlust given by the Bone Wand.

Fiendfyre wasn't exactly an option inside of a forest, and a small village full of Muggles was not a good choice either. So, Harry picked himself up, and began to travel on foot towards the mark on the map, an area just outside of Godric's Hollow.

Several hours later, he pitched camp. His body was more used to the activity; he had never particularly minded it, but sometimes, pain was more than noticeable. He still had that dislocated shoulder to deal with, and it wasn't going to get better on its own. So Harry finally found a tree, and resorted to something he had seen on a TV show once. He rammed his shoulder into the tree, until he heard a pop, combined with an incredible jolt of pain, signaling the joint was back in place.

The pain was much less, but still there, and Harry had no doubt there was lingering damage. Still, there was nothing to be done for it, and he opened the ancient book.

This time, the book was about his bloodline. Apparently, his family dated back well beyond the Roman coming to the British Isles. Potter of Potter, the original Potter, was a Celt from Northern Wales, born in early six hundred three B.C.E. He came to rule his clan, after killing his great uncle in a pit fight.

After that, the bloody history of the Potters blew his mind. Until the Roman Invasion, the Potters did nothing but fight amongst themselves. The power of their clan was feared even by the Muggles, and their magic was second to none. In a time when the Fae Courts actually existed and ruled the Magicals with an iron fist, the Potters feared no one. They were the keystones in the eventual defeat of both the winter and the Summer Courts, and the reason why the Sidhe left the world of the mortals.

Boudicca may have lost to the Romans, but the Potter clan killed almost forty percent of the Roman Wizard population. Wizards, though more populous now than ever, were still a small percentage of the world's population, with perhaps a few hundred million worldwide.

After the Roman Invasion, the Potter Clan ruled the Wizarding World of Britain. They were known as the Blood Barons, and all who dared rise against them, were absolutely eradicated. Until Merlin arose, that is.

The Father of Modern Magic almost single handedly destroyed the entire clan, leaving only a few alive, even using their ancestral lands to raise Arthur to spite them. For decades, the Potters planned revenge, only to have it stolen by the witch Nimue. After Merlin's fall, the Potters rose back to power after extracting a proxy revenge on the witch.

The Sphinx Bone Wand was a traditional wand used by the Potter Clan. Before the Ollivander family became the premier wandmaker in Britain, the clans often made their own wands. So, Harry held a relic of his family's past in his own hands when he used the Wand. It also explained why the bloodlust came out only when he held it.

Harry wondered if the bloodlust he felt whenever he held the Bone Wand was simply the rage of his bloodline coming forth. After being suppressed for centuries, it was understandably furious. If he were to pat himself on the back, Harry knew he was of uncommon willpower. It was unlikely anyone else would be able to resist it.

The book mentioned blood spells that could be used. Some spells were more lethal than others, some were simply utility spells, like True Sight. Harry could imagine Voldemort's expression if he showed up throwing a Virulent Spike down a Death Eater's throat, but he also wondered how his allies would see it. It would likely mean a third war immediately after Voldemort's defeat, with him against the world.

Harry smirked. That's how it always was; him against the world. Hell, that's how it was now. He was the last man standing and he always would be. That was his ferocity, his absolute willpower.

* * *

(In Wales)

"Today, gentlemen, we begin our war against the abomination that is the Dark Lord. Today, we begin the fight, that will see us stride into history, to be embraced by future generations with open arms! Today, we stand together; without pause, without fear. We are ready to be the dealers of thunder and death which is necessary to remove this threat not just to us, but everyone on Earth."

Kingsley Shacklebolt sat among the large audience at Gawain Robbards' acceptance speech. Kingsley's shock at the size had worn off, but he still found it odd that so many would come to hear an upstart's ramblings. They must have more support than he thought, the supply problems he and Gawain had argued about had been alleviated.

The newly formed United Coalition of Resistances; a conglomerate of the various states who renounced membership of the Voldemort controlled United Kingdom, had appointed he and Robbards as supreme commanders of the military effort.

Officially, the Coalition was a government in exile, not a government in rebellion. Unofficially, it is the reverse. With himself as Head of State, and Robbards as Minister of War, the Coalition was a fully functional illegitimate government trying to overthrow the actual government. Of course, there wouldn't be a coalition of the resistances if everyone had accepted Voldemort as a legitimate ruler; thus, they all considered themselves to be the offspring of the original Ministry.

"We will bring justice to this fool who thinks to flaunt his vague, outdated, reactionary, and unwanted views upon us! There will always exist within, a free spirit among men, and we will show him that spirit! This day, I am here to announce our first actions as the Coalition."

Here, Gawain paused as he shuffled around a few papers on the podium. Kingsley, uninterested because he already knew the actions, opted to look around. The Coalition subsidized news reporters were the only on-hand. It had been his suggestion, actually. As a member of the Order, he knew firsthand how "Free" the Daily Prophet was in regards to Free Press. In other words, they printed what sold the most, with little regard to how true the story was, while retaining just enough truth to shield them from libel and slander litigation.

"My first motion as Head of State, is to institute a State-Controlled Press. In these troubling times, it is sometimes necessary to restrict personal freedoms for the good of the state. You may have seen many of them already. They are hand-picked by our Minister of War, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and have forsworn all other loyalties. I trust, implicitly, that they will do their best to relay accurately, the horrors of war and the crimes of our foes."

Kingsley smiled at his mentioning. Gawain was Mr. In-Charge, so Kingsley's role, despite how well his talents were suited for it, found itself taking a figurehead role often.

"The second motion, again, with a citation to our Minister, is to institute a draft. This is a call to arms for all able-bodied men and women between the ages of eighteen and forty-five. You may ask, why not make it the age of majority and up? Well, the answer is that we wish for our youngest adults to have the option to serve. They of course, may volunteer, but it will be at their own discretion. You will find an outline of the policy within the brochures handed out prior to the conference."

"Our third motion, is to formally recognize the new Wizengamot in exile. It is with great pleasure, that our previously underrepresented minorities will be equally represented, as the Neo-Wizengamot will have a standardized size of five hundred and forty-seven persons, and seating will be determined via public voting. There will be a small set of ideologically grouped individuals arranged together in parties to vote for In-Line. Bear in mind, that when voting, you will be voting for your Party, not a singular individual. Due to our current times of war, the Neo-Wizengamot is suspended and will not be enacted until post-war."

"Finally, our forth motion. I would lie if I said I was saddened by this resolution. We have come to terms with the idea that there will be no mercy dealt to us. So, I, Gawain Robbards, hereby declare the act of Total War upon the United Kingdom of Great Britain as it remains under the control of the Dark Lord. Our soldiers will be given orders to destroy all Wizarding infrastructures they find. We are instituting a policy of Scorched Earth."

There was silence in the room. Most of those in attendance weren't familiar with the doctrine, but those who were, they were pale. Gawain continued on, his face twisted into stern fury, "We will do what they have done to us. Our soldiers are to kill **any **and **all **suspected of being a constituent or cooperating with the Death Eaters. _**None**_ are to be spared, they are all to die. We will do to them, as they have done to us. Kill them all. Kill their wives. Kill their children, and maybe then, they shall show remorse for the sins they have committed unto us. No respite! No surrender! No **mercy!**"

* * *

A/N: Alright, so we're beginning to move forward with the actual story here, but we're still in the "Introduction" so to speak. I'm currently working on Chapter 11, and we've still not gotten through all the Temples yet, so this will certainly be a much longer story than the original Rune Reader.

Why the Coalition is different: State controlled press? Didn't the Ministry do something similar? Similar yes, but not exactly the same. The Ministry paid the Daily Prophet to print the smear campaign, but had they wanted to, they probably could have gone against it. This is a direct restriction of Press rights to prevent such a thing from happening.

Are they similar to Voldemort's Death Eaters?: That's the idea. Sometimes, in the process of removing the problem, you become the problem, which has significant ramifications later in the story.

The Veils: People being sent into the Veils, and not actually dying isn't a new idea, but I'm using them as more of a storage device. The people sent into the Veils eventually die of starvation, or something else, or maybe even start their own civilization. This is just one of a couple of sub-plots that tie directly into the main plot that will be introduced in the coming chapters.


End file.
